Painting The Sky
by Hippothestrowl
Summary: The summer after Cedric died. Harry meets surprise visitors who end his isolation, provide an alternate response to the Prophecy, and change his life forever.
1. Isolation

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 _I swore I'd never do a Voldemort fic again but a story idea seized me so aggressively that this entire novella poured out in less than a week. So, the quill having finally slipp'd my bleeding fingers, I had to post it. At least it quickly diverts radically from Harry's original summer at the start of OoP. There is gentle bashing of characters but I love them really. Read on..._

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 **Chapter 1**

 **Isolation**

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The Light and the Dark

Harry Potter was in a fury and the summer heat wasn't helping either. An explosive argument with his Uncle Vernon had driven him out of the house but that had been only the extra flame that caused his pot to boil over. No, it was prolonged isolation that had built up the pressure. Cedric's death and the rebirth of Lord Voldemort in Hangleton Graveyard were fresh in his mind. Why was there nothing in the news about the matter? And why was nobody answering his owls? Surely he could trust Ron and Hermione to keep him informed?

The late afternoon sun was relentless. He trudged on, hardly aware of the route he was taking, for he had pounded these streets so often lately that his feet carried him to his favourite haunts automatically. And then, as his feeling of frustration peaked, his confidence in his friends leaked away. Harry felt a dull, sinking sensation in the stomach and before he knew it, a feeling of hopelessness that had plagued him all summer rolled over him once again.

He turned a corner into Magnolia Crescent – empty stone and concrete baking and blinding in the bright heat. Halfway along was the narrow alleyway down the side of a garage where he had first clapped eyes on his godfather. As he passed by the narrow entrance, his eyes instinctively darted sideways in the vain hope that the great black dog might come bounding out to greet him; he ached for good company and for new information.

The passage was dark – unusually dark for a day such as this, Harry thought. Two paces further on, he slowed, came to a halt, and glanced behind him. Was it wishful thinking that he thought he'd glimpsed a flicker of movement in the deepest shadow of the narrow corridor? Aware that he was completely alone on the quiet, sultry street, he drew out his wand from the back pocket of his jeans, then stepped slowly and cautiously back.

"Sirius...?"

A faint sound reached his ears; was it a voice?

"Hullo...?" he whispered, curiosity inching one foot forward, then another.

The passage, being cooler out of the sun and free from the oppressive glare of the furnace-white road, did nothing to discourage him from what might have been a reckless venture, and soon he was deeper into the passageway than he'd intended. It had become a true corridor, causing Harry to gaze all around him in puzzlement. How could the darkness extend beyond the length of the garage? The blue sky above had receded to a hazy ribbon across the enveloping blackness. The street which could not be more than a few paces behind him appeared a distant shimmer. The notion of Alice down a rabbit hole crept into Harry's thinking. _What is going on?_

" _AARGHHH!"_ Harry stumbled backwards and fell over.

For a moment only, there had been an indistinct figure just ahead, closer than was comfortable, and made visible only as a translucent contour against the dull orange glow which had flamed beyond it.

Harry scrambled awkwardly to his feet, croaking incoherently, "Who are you!" and "What are you!" while swerving his wand back and forth defensively ahead of him.

Without warning, or any sound, the reddish-orange light flared more vigorously yet did not relieve the darkness that surrounded Harry. The flames did, however, expose the figure to be more substantial than Harry had first thought. Its strange radiance silhouetted the man's dark rumpled hair, outlined the edge of his stubbled jaw, and glinted off spectacles, wristwatch, and a ring on the finger of his extended left hand.

The man – probably in his early twenties – was so very like the form that had emerged recently from Voldemort's wand in the graveyard that Harry took one step back out of reach, alarmed that the Dark Lord might lie beyond the radiance. "Dad...?"

The light caught the lengthy tresses of a second, more slender figure, just beyond the first, and Harry gasped. "Mum...?"

"Harry," she said, and her smile was conveyed mostly by her tone, "we've waited so long for this moment." Her voice was softly lilting and gentle.

"But we can't stay long nor go further than this... umbra," said the man, waving his hand through the curious blackness.

His voice had a depth of assurance and authority that caused such a surge of emotional pride to sweep through Harry, that he found himself weeping, and glanced sheepishly behind. Dudley was somewhere out there and it wouldn't do to... he whirled back round, rubbing away tears with his forearm. "This isn't a trick?"

Both figures shook their heads. "You can't help him," said the man.

Unseen, Harry's brow wrinkled up in puzzlement.

"Dudley is lost to this world – let him go."

Harry's frown deepened. "How did–?"

Seemingly aware of Harry's painful uncertainty, the shadowy woman came forward to embrace the youth. He felt the man's comforting arm round his shoulder too.

"Trust me, Harry," said the man, "I know exactly what you're going through right now, but it won't last."

"You're both solid? You can't be..."

Harry shook his head away from the woman's soft, rosy curls; breathed in her flowery scent; touched her cheek as if to reassure himself she really was substantial. "I wish I could see you more clearly."

Wand still in hand, he drew back to cast a light.

"Save your magic for Death Eaters and Dementors, Harry," said the man. "Ordinary light cannot penetrate the shadow cast by _this_ fire."

"But... how can you... how can you even be here? What are those flames?" Harry's eyes widened in shock. "You're not...? Oh, God, no – you've not come back from...?"

The woman turned her smile to the light but Harry struggled to see anything more of her features. She said, "Think of it as a special Floo portal from another dimension."

"But you're not suffering? You're happy, right?"

The couple's hands reached out to each other and their profiles indicated their smiles were dazzling. "Blissfully happy," they said in unison. "But we need your help to keep it so," added the man.

The visitors looked at one another then nodded.

"We can't linger, and nor must you," said the woman. "Take this, keep its secrets close, look to your friends for we can never return."

"But..."

The man pressed a dark shape into Harry's hands; it felt like nothing more exotic than a lightly-filled carrier bag. How they read his incredulity in the dark he did not know but they both laughed. The woman kissed his cheek; the man shook his hand and showed reluctance to let go. Finally they departed whence they came.

"Run, Harry!" came the man's fading caution. "Hurry, there's not much time! Stay indoors until the danger is over!"

"What danger? What must I do? Can't I ever see you again?"

The man's final words sounded like: "You'll see me when you get home, so make haste before it's too late!"

"What? But you said..."

The shadow was lifting; strong daylight flooded in, and Harry blinked.

"What did he mean he'll see me at home? Uncle Vernon will blow a gasket if..."

He'd edged towards the street exit, aware of the increasing heat and light – and something more.

Something wasn't right.

 _Run, Harry!_ the man had said.

Harry looked up and down the empty street. A whirl of dust carrying litter sprang up in the dry gutter. A cat began yowling desperately at someone's door across the road. Looking up, heavy grey clouds were moving in. Rapidly.

Harry shivered in the heat. "What th...?"

He ran. He ran from he knew not what. Fear had seized his mind and he yielded to it. On reaching home, he slammed the front door behind him and leaned back on it, panting.

"What in blazes is up with you!" snapped his uncle as he blustered out from the living room. "What have you done to the weather! And what's that you've got there?"

The switch from the surreal meeting in the alley followed by his inexplicable flight of terror, to this mundane domestic irrelevance caused Harry's brain to freeze for a few moments. Then he remembered the bag in his hand and raised the side to examine it. 'ALDI' boasted the slogan.

"Give it here!"

Mr Dursley snatched at the bag, peering inside and frowning angrily because Harry continued to cling to it.

"It's magic! They're uuh... magic leeches! I'm going to erm... vanish them before they suck out all our brains! Here! Want some?"

He shook the bag in his uncle's face then stomped off up the stairs to his room.

"THERE. IS. NO. SUCH. THING. AS. M– M– M–"

"MAGIC!" Harry shouted down the stairs just before he banged shut his bedroom door.

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Food for Thought

"Ah, Hedwig – _finally_ you're back! Anything for me?"

The owl hooted mournfully from the open window then fluttered over to her cage where a pile of treats awaited her.

Harry sighed and thoughtlessly sagged the carrier bag down onto the floor. Distracted by the continuing lack of messages, he sat down on his bed before remembering the last thing he'd been told in the alley. He leapt back to the door, opened it, then slowly closed it again. No way would his aunt and uncle forget to mention if Harry's ghostly father was in the house. It made no sense. Unless...

He dashed across to his wardrobe, pulled the door wide, and peered inside. His cheeks grew hot at his own stupidity. He banged the door shut then went back to the bed. "Got me looking for spooks in my own wardrobe now..." he muttered to himself. Hedwig hooted in sympathy.

For ten minutes he fought an urge to look under his bed. Finally, he knelt down to tidy up some of the Daily Prophets he'd slung about in disgust at the lack of real news about Voldemort. While on his knees it wouldn't hurt – he told himself – to sneak a sideways look. But there was nothing under the bed except dust. He flung the Daily Prophets into a heap in the corner causing Hedwig to flutter irritably, then Harry sat down once more.

Laying back on his bed, he thought hard, What had his dad actually said? It had been something like... _You'll see me when you get home so... hurry up or you'll be too late!_

"Damn!" Harry was on his feet again, pacing up and down, eyes half-closed in concentration. He must have missed him.

CLANG!

Harry opened his eyes. He'd kicked the carrier bag aside with his foot.

"Aha!" _I forgot that! What an idiot! Perhaps there's a picture of Mum and Dad in there!_

He lunged for the bag and peered inside at the contents. They were just grocery eatables: a big pack of peanuts, a very small round tin of shortbread, a pathetically squashed packet of Squarios potato crisps, a can of Coke and another of Pepsi, a KitKat, baked beans, snack bars, and other junk. He stared at them in disbelief. His father had been a Marauder. They'd give Fred and George a run for their money any day. But to find a way back to his son, only to leave him with a can of cold beans and junk food seemed a cruel prank.

Harry slumped back down on his bed, staring despondently at the labels. _Baked Beans in Rich Tomato Sauce, Large Economy Size._ Had his father known he was often locked in his room, hungry and miserable, glad of a bowl of cold soup pushed through the cat flap? Not even able to go to the loo unless his aunt allowed him? A crushing sense of shame filled him; he'd wanted his mum and dad to be proud.

He tried to find some kind of message in the slogans and ingredients – perhaps a code – but they were all very ordinary. Even the best-by date on the underside of the bean tin got squinted at, but the light from the window was failing rapidly as the storm clouds swung overhead. A cool gust of air began blowing the curtains about, and Harry pushed the window half to. He switched on his bedside lamp and held the can near while he peered at it. His glasses glinted in the shiny metal surface just like his dad's had in that heavenly light, he noted morosely.

The sell-by date hadn't revealed anything, and yet a niggle in his mind grew... what was he missing? In a moment, several separate concepts connected within his mind – the glimmer of his reflection – the date – hungry – _you'll see me when you get home._ He angled the can and stared closely at the reflection of his spectacle lenses.

With a WHOOP! he pulled open his wardrobe door again and stared at the tall mirror on its inner panel. There he was. _You'll see ME when you get home! ME! That was my future self in the alley – just like when I fought off the Dementors beside the lake at Hogwarts two years ago!_

Sell by date: JUN 2004 the can had said – NINE years from now! He'd be in his early twenties by that date. Surely this all meant he would survive at least until then – he must have! And he'd be married! Married to a lovely, kind-sounding person with long, flaming-red hair like his mum! He blinked. Ginny Weasley? Had her early crush blossomed into something more? She'd gone to the Yule Ball with Neville but had not sounded very happy about it beforehand. Had she secretly wanted to go with Harry? Yes, she'd stopped smiling when he mentioned Cho.

As he closed his wardrobe, he cursed himself for not asking her first – she'd have been better company than Parvati. He considered her recent behaviour. All he could remember was her painful shyness when she was around him. But what had he done to help _her_? Nothing apart from Riddle's diary and that didn't really count. She was a good sort and a good friend, yet he'd never really given her any nice words or sympathy with her own worries. _I don't even know if she had any worries!_ He owed her big time. The least he owed her was his proper friendship.

 _Look to your friends..._ he mused, that's what his future self had told him. Perhaps he hadn't meant Ron and Hermione? And to think he might be married to her – to a real girl! He _would_ be, he then realised.

"Ginny Potter." He said the words aloud a few times and liked the sound of them. _Well, even if Ron and Hermione won't tell me what's going on, then surely Ginny might? If she likes me enough to marry me, surely she'll answer an owl or two!_ He strode over to his desk to begin writing her a message. Hedwig looked on with interest.

While wondering how to start, he sharpened a new quill with the penknife from his desk then dipped the point in the inkwell. Finally, he commenced his message. But as Harry wrote, the sky outside grew even darker. He shivered again, but this time there was a good reason – the temperature was dropping rapidly. _Freak low pressure summer storm or something,_ he told himself, and carried on writing:

 _Dear Ginny,_

 _How's your summer been so far? I was just thinking of you and decided to write. Hope you don't mind._

He chewed on the end of his quill for a while thinking what else he could put. It was really hard writing to girls. Especially when you've no common interests. He couldn't ask her what was going on with Voldemort – she'd just think he was only writing because his real friends were ignoring him. Then she'd think that he thought that she was not a real friend. Annoyed, he sighed and moved his parchment closer to the light. It was getting really black outside now, and...

Getting up to properly close the window against the near-icy breeze, he could just see the edge of one part of the road past the side of the house. For a moment he thought he'd glimpsed a couple of tall hooded figures with pale faces. Wizards in Little Whinging? Puzzled, he reached for the window handle again, intending to lean out, then changed his mind, thinking of those wizards at the Quidditch World Cup who'd – Ginny had enjoyed that match! Diverted by the idea, he swung back to continue his writing:

 _I'd forgot you liked Quidditch._

He stared at the sentence. She'd think he was a complete prat for sure. Problem was, he was useless with words, and girls were... over-sensitive. Ginny had hero-worshipped him for years but now she'd find out how ordinary – no, _less_ than ordinary, he really was. She'd stare in disbelief at his dumb message. In his mind's eye he could see her sneer as she turned to Ron and Hermione. " _I can't believe how immature Potter really is, sending me a soppy love letter and getting all tongue-tied. Wait till I show all the girls at Hogwarts!_ "

That was a real possibility! A curious fear gripped his heart. Biting his lip didn't help. How could he ever face anyone again? A chill shuddered up his back at the humiliation. The contempt in her expression was there for all to see, highlighted by the darkness blossoming on all sides like black ink staining around her brightly-illuminated smirk in his mind. Ginny despised him! Loathed him! Regarded him as less than a worm! And she was right! A cold, empty void swallowed him and every scrap of self-respect drained away as intense shame churned him inside.

The doorbell rang downstairs, breaking into Harry's nightmare. He found himself curled up on the floor, shaking. What had happened? Voices drew him to his feet and he opened the bedroom door a crack to listen.

"You're Mr and Mrs Dursley, is that correct?" A man's voice. Harry imagined Uncle Vernon nodding his head in reply. "And you have a son named..." – Harry knew the name was being read from somewhere – "Dudley?" Again silence on Uncle Vernon's part, which was very unusual.

"This is WPC Louthgate, and I'm Sergeant Pearson. "We're very sorry to have to inform you that there has been a serious accident involving your son. May we come in?"

"NOOOOO!" That was Aunt Petunia's shriek. "What happened! Can we see him? Where is he? What is the–? Is he–?"

The officer sounded as if he understood Mrs Dursley's last incomplete question for he said, "No, but we're told he's not making much sense, that is, not... not really all there, if you see what I mean. If we could just come inside for a few moments..."

The shuffling of footsteps and the closing of the front door drove Harry back to his window to check the weather. _Dudley sounds normal to me – probably scared by a flash of lightning._ But the sky had brightened considerably since he last looked. He opened the window. Warm air gushed in and the unfinished message on his desk fluttered up on the breeze. Harry snatched it out of the air and read the words while his mind was elsewhere.

 _I'd forgot you liked Quidditch._

That last sentence didn't sound so bad now. He took up his quill and sank down into his seat. _Until last year's world cup match, that is! Well, we have something in common!_

He was still feeling shaky, but now a rare grin crept over his face. He liked the addition. It showed his interest but without sounding like he was after... a blush followed the grin but he did not try to rub it away. The courage of future certainty was sweeping through him.

 _Perhaps we could swap a few messages? My cousin's just been in an accident – don't know what yet. Probably fell off his bike onto his fat a–_

Harry chewed some more, trying to think up a different word beginning with A that would be more polite to say to a shy young girl.

– _arms and legs! Oh, and an old friend gave me some snacks so that's a nice treat! We just had a small storm but It's still so hot here even though the sun's going down. I don't suppose it's any cooler at The Burrow, is it? How are things there? Bet you're having loads of fun with Ron and Hermione. Any news? I've not heard anything yet about –_ he hesitated – _You-know-what. There's nothing in the Prophets. I hate being stuck here worrying about – you know – what happened, and not knowing what's going on, and what the Ministry are doing about–_ He tried to remember if Ginny minded him saying the name 'Voldemort'. He wrote down _You-know-who._

The police could be heard departing downstairs as he signed his name simply, _Harry_

There, he told himself, that's upbeat and nice with no soppy love and kisses but a decent hint about me getting invited to The Burrow for the rest of the summer!

Harry was feeling rather good about himself – the best day of the holiday by far.

"Ron and Hermione aren't my only friends!" he declared aloud. "If they want to ignore me then let them!"

"Mmm..." Perhaps he'd better be cautious about those two. He scraped a little red sealing wax into the old teaspoon he kept for that purpose, then warmed it over his bedside lamp bulb. After rolling up the parchment nice and tight, he dobbed it with a spot of hot wax – to keep out prying eyes, he told himself – then attached it to Hedwig's leg. "It's for Ginny," he told the owl, and paused. "Uuh... better not let the others see you, if you know what I mean?"

Hedwig hooted and took flight through the window and veered northeast. Harry scratched his head and leaned out to see better. The owl was heading for London. _Have the Weasleys gone to Diagon Alley?_ "Oh well, Hedwig will know where to find her."

A picture filled Harry's mind of Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys laughing and singing and eating cauldronfuls of ice cream out in the sunshine while he... he was still trapped here. It kind of took the shine off things.

"BOY! GET DOWN HERE!"

Harry sighed. Now what? He'd barely got the door open when he was confronted by his uncle stomping up the stairs. "GET IN YOUR ROOM!"

"But you said..."

"What have you done to our Dudley! What happened while you were out?"

Mr Dursley pushed Harry backwards into his bedroom. He was so close that Harry could feel the spit hitting his face as his uncle raged.

"The weather! Something freaky happened while you were out and I want to know what!"

"I didn't even see Dudley! What's up with him?"

"Up with him? Up with him! His head – that's what's up with him, boy! He's gone all doolally. Hit and run without a mark on him, they said. Almost comatose. Barely a sensible word has he spoken. Staring like a–"

"–In case you hadn't noticed, Uncle, I haven't got a car and I'm not old enough to drive! So it couldn't have been me!"

His shoulder was shoved backwards by a meaty fist. "Don't you get clever with me, boy! Your aunt and I are going to the hospital. You'll stay in your room and no funny business!"

 _Fun? Huh! No chance of fun inside a mile radius of Harry 'Who?' Potter,_ thought Harry gloomily as Mr Dursley stormed out, locking the door behind him with a loud click.

Harry booted out angrily but pulled back in time – last time he'd kicked the door, his foot had got stuck through the cat flap. He sank down onto his bed once more and resumed thinking how unfair life was to him in particular.

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Ginny's Message

Harry was still sitting with his head in his hands an hour later when a waft of air told him that Hedwig had returned and was hopping about on his desk waiting for him.

Blinking in surprise, he got up, noticing as he did so that the sun still had not quite set. "That was fast, Hedwig! So they _were_ in Diagon Alley?

Hedwig's large eyes slowly blinked but Harry's attention was on the message the owl had brought with her. He unrolled it, grabbed a drink can out of the bag, and began to read:

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Thank Merlin you're alright! I was going crazy with worry when I heard!_

His face screwed up in puzzlement, Harry scratched the back of his head trying to think what she was on about. He took a couple of swigs of cola before continuing:

 _Sorry to hear about your cousin, but from what I've heard of the way he treats you, it's a pity he didn't get a kick up his fart arse instead._

Harry spluttered Coke down his chin.

 _Mum will kill me if she finds out I'm writing, because Professor Dumbledore made Ron and Hermione swear not to tell you anything but he never thought to tell me as well! We're not at The Burrow, I can't even write down where we are because there's a spell that stops me writing it – Dumbledore again._

Harry stared at the twisted squiggles that followed Ginny's words, as if a cat had tried to scratch the parchment with inky claws. Clearly she had struggled to tell him the address but a charm or a curse had prevented it. Why was he being excluded? He re-read the start of the sentence again – over and over. _We're not at The Burrow._ So he was trapped here at the Dursleys for the entire summer. His heart sank and his gaze drifted down again to see if there was any other information.

 _There's going to be a meeting to discuss things – some sort of secret organisation, Fred said, but he wouldn't say what. Everybody's going to be here!_

"Except nobodies like me, of course!" Harry turned on his heel and almost screwed up the message in frustration. "I'm the one who saw Voldemort! I'm the one who nearly got killed! I'm the only one who can tell everyone what happened! But, oh, no, leave me out of it!"

His face twisted up darkly, but eventually he sank down onto his bed and continued reading. It wasn't Ginny's fault, after all:

 _You can't have been reading the Daily Prophets right through because they keep making out you're some horrible, deluded, attention-seeking prat who thinks he's a great tragic hero. It makes me so mad! We think – Hermione and Ron and me – Fudge doesn't want anyone to believe you about You-know-who._

Harry groaned and rolled his eyes up at the ceiling before forcing himself to read more:

 _But you never said anything about what happened where you are either! Did they get close? How did Dementors get in Little Whinging? Sirius told us and–_

Harry slowly put his drink down on the floor beside his bed, trying to absorb what he'd read. Dementors had been in the village! And his godfather was with the Weasleys! Everybody was there, laughing and dancing and eating ice cream by the gallon, when for all they knew he was fighting Dementors! Why hadn't they come to see if he was safe? They hadn't even warned him!

Abruptly, confusion swamped Harry. He'd been happy and confident reading and writing at first, then insecure, depressed again – even fearful. Terrified for a while! So it had been Dementors outside! That's why he'd felt so chilled and miserable. He'd never made the connection because, well, he'd been distracted by meeting himself and his own ghostly wife! Who wouldn't be distracted! And it was so unthinkable to even consider magic here in this utterly Muggle environment!

So what was happening in Little Whinging that Dementors would be here? Did everyone else know? Why weren't they telling him?

Annoyed again, he paced, almost knocking over his half-drank can of Coke on the floor. Absently, he picked it up and began to gulp it in little snatches of irritation.

"I wish someone else had won the tournament. I wish one of them had faced Voldemort and all his gang. See how they'd like it! Yeah, maybe Dementors too for good measure, only–!"

He paused. That must have been what hit Dudley.

"Sheeeesh..." Down he sat again, all his self-importance deflated. They'd got Dudley instead of... me. Almost a sort of coma the police had said, or something like that. What had the Dementors done? Taken Dudley's soul? _I wouldn't wish that even on Duds._

For a while he pondered his cousin's fate, and his own sense of guilt. He, himself, must have been the likely target that had drawn the filthy creatures into the village. He desperately wanted to talk to Sirius – or anyone – to find out if that was true and who'd sent them here.

"AARGH!" He was shaking with anger. "And everyone's invited to talk about it except ME!"

Hedwig hooted a reminder. Harry looked across at his owl, then down at Ginny's message still in his hand.

 _Sirius told us and Dad confirmed it. They think the Dementors must have been after you._

"You don't say..." muttered Harry. "Hooray. Someone wants me after all. Pity that they're ugly, scabby skeletons that drink out your soul but I suppose I should be grateful."

He slammed the can of cola down on his desk – he'd need to conserve some of it for later.

 _I wish there was something I could do,_ went on Ginny. _If these messages are of any comfort then I'll keep on writing. I'll try to find out everything I can and let you know._

She'd signed simply, 'Ginny'. He stared at her name for a while, running his fingers over what she had written, where her hand had rested. It was his only contact with anyone who didn't want him dead. For a while he'd forgotten they were to be married – it seemed so fantastically unreal. But it was true. She cared. At least one person cared about his welfare and how he was going crazy locked up in this house. That made all the difference.

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—oOo—

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* * *

 **Author's Notes**

 _Five more chapters to go and I'll post them every few days as I polish them up._ :)

 _Thanks to everyone for comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful._ :)

 **\- Hippothestrowl**

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	2. Friends

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 _So far...It's the hot summer of 1995, and Harry briefly met his future self and wife who have instructed him to look to his friends for support. But following a Dementor attack on Dudley, Harry is confined to his room and the only one to have answered his owls was Ginny. Now read on..._

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 **Chapter 2**

 **Friends**

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Harry's Message

Harry Potter was locked in his room and utterly disgusted with life. He'd no idea how long his uncle and aunt would be out visiting Dudley at the hospital, and Harry was feeling the first pangs of hunger. How long? They might wait at ' _Duddydums'_ bedside forever, because if Dudley had been kissed by a Dementor then he'd _never_ awaken.

The orange glow in the west was all that remained of the day and he longed for the evening's meal. He looked wistfully into the carrier bag. He weighed a snack bar in one hand against the chocolate KitKat in the other. He'd learned from experience to save the best till last. Beans on toast would taste nice about now except he had no way to make toast or even heat the beans. Well, he'd eaten cold beans before and been glad of them.

He picked up his faithful penknife again and worked it carefully around the rim of the can to minimise any jagged edges. Using the hem of his tee-shirt, Harry rubbed away most of the wax from his spoon, then dipped into the beans. They had an unusual flavour but beggars can't be choosers, he told himself, swallowing and digging further into the rich tomato sauce. His spoon bumped something bigger than beans, something hidden in the sauce. Delicately he tilted the can, squinting hard and scooping at the concealed object...

A huge yellow, fleshy surface rolled to the surface and dived again. So repulsive was that one glimpse that Harry squealed girlishly and flung the can away from himself. The metal canister struck the nearest leg of his desk and the contents of the tin slithered out onto the carpet, beans and all. The sickening horror was so large, so animated, so giant-slug-like, that, heart-thumping madly, Harry backed off and crashed into his wardrobe. The creature oozed over on its side and stared at Harry with one big eye. The thing was as fat and round as the bean can – large economy size.

By now, Harry's mouth was gaping so wide, and his brow was so high, that his face ached through the seconds he stood there transfixed. Only when his snowy owl fluttered down to investigate the prospects of making a meal of this curious mollusk did Harry move.

"NO, HEDWIG!" He leapt forward and shooed away the bird. "It might be... not good for you..."

He spat out a couple of mouthfuls of sauce as he tried to dash to the bathroom – only to re-discover he was locked in with this disgusting... what was it exactly? Harry turned again and stared. The slug glistened vacantly in its gooey pool of beans. It wasn't moving. Its great eye didn't follow Harry or even blink. He saw it then for what it was. The large blob wasn't a complete creature: it was only the eyeball.

"YOU GREAT STUPID–!" Harry jumped up and down with an explosive temper. "WHY THE HELL DID YOU PUT THIS IN THE...!" He tailed off. He'd sent it to himself. Why? It couldn't be an accident. Couldn't be a mistake. From the future, he'd taken the trouble to put an eye in a can of beans and bring it back to his earlier self. Was this a treat? Is that what people in 2004 ate?

Harry leaned forward against the door and banged his head against it. "WHY DO THESE STUPID THINGS KEEP HAPPENING TO ME!" Were all the snacks inhabited by exotic, disgusting body parts?

Cautiously, he peeked into the carrier bag, perching it on his knees as he sat down on his bed once more. Which to open next? The peanuts should be safe, he thought. Or chocolate? The snack bars or the biscuits would be more substantial if it was, after all, only food.

He shook the half-crushed packet of Squarios. It rustled and rattled but there couldn't be more than a couple of mouthfuls of crisps inside. Cautiously, he opened it up and tipped the contents out into his hand. For a moment he thought he was looking at individually foil-wrapped Squarios but then he realised they were square badges. Each had 'Youth Advice' engraved on it with a name: Ringo Starr, Madonna Ciccone, Elvis Presley, Marylin Monroe. Bemused, Harry slipped them back in the packet.

The little shortbread tin, he noticed, was a similar width to the bean can but not so tall; did it contain the other eyeball?

Deciding to get the worst over with, he began prising open the biscuit tin. Sugary shortbread neatly arranged in rounded triangular segments begged him to eat them. But were there other layers underneath? Or something else?

He gasped! Through the cracks dividing the biscuits, he thought he'd seen something flicker. Carefully he prised out one piece...

The movement had been simply his own reflection again. For a moment he thought he was seeing himself in the bottom of the tin but a little further examination revealed it was a round mirror. It fitted neatly into the palm of his hand when he took it out, and he dusted off a few biscuit crumbs with the edge of his tee-shirt. Yet another mirror lay below where the first had been in the container. Then another and another until he had four mirrors laid out on his bed as he continued to delve into the shortbread tin. Finally, below a couple of layers of transparent plastic film he saw a few sheets of folded parchment. At last! He opened it and began to read:

 _Sorry about the drama, Harry, but I remembered Dursley poking his nose in to see what you'd got in the bag. He'd have six fits if he saw what was in the bean can. Whatever you do, don't open it! It's the eye of a young basilisk._

"Aaarrr..." gurgled Harry, unable to stop himself looking again at the round slug on the floor. With a struggle, he composed himself. After all, the snake's eyeball had not killed him so it must be safe. The organ was nowhere near the size of those of the creature he'd killed in the Chamber of Secrets; still, he supposed, its gaze while alive would have been lethal no matter what its dimensions. So why...? He continued reading.

 _Just joshing you - the basilisk eye is safe for the moment! I knew you'd spill the beans first because, well, I've already done it, haven't I? I daren't change how events will unfold without risking a paradox. Even this letter is the one you gave me – no, I mean, I, myself gave me when I was you, if you see what I mean? Do NOT lose this message! You have to give it to yourself when you're my age! Simple really._

Harry frowned, trying to figure out who had written the message in the first place. The handwriting was definitely his own but if he'd not written it and his future self hadn't either then... he gave up on that puzzle before it gave him a headache, and continued...

 _Unlike the ones in the Chamber of Secrets, this basilisk eye is intact, undamaged, and being kept virtually alive for a few weeks by my wife's bewitchment. So it's VERY dangerous but only when covered by its eye scale and immersed in snake tears (which I've put in the Coke can–_

Coughing, spluttering, and clutching his throat, Harry got to his feet and stared at the drinks can he'd half finished and left on his desk. "You have GOT to be joking!" After a while, he sat down again and picked up where he'd left off:

 _Yeah, I was just joking. As if I'd put snake tears in a Coca Cola can and give them to myself to drink! No, I put them in the Pepsi! I knew you'd never choose Pepsi before Coke – who would? And don't ask how I got enough snake tears to fill a cola can; you don't want to know. Well, not yet anyway._

"Har... har... so I finally developed a sense of humour," Harry muttered dryly to himself "But even so..." He looked at the gooey eyeball on the floor and the Pepsi can that was just visible inside the bag. "WHY?"

 _Why? you are asking yourself right now. The answer is that Voldemort has made himself near-immortal so the best way to stop him with a minimal loss of life is to petrify him until Dumbledore and others can deal with the dark magic that would keep Voldemort alive. So what is that magic, you're wondering?_

 _Brace yourself, young Harry. These recent dreams you've had about walking down a corridor towards a locked door, and the pain in your scar – there's a connection between you and Voldemort that was left when he first tried to kill you as a baby. That connection – and others – binds him to this world so he cannot die yet. For this reason, he must remain petrified and concealed until after your natural death – which I hope will be when I am very old! After that he can be permanently destroyed. Meanwhile, the other connections, Dumbledore can destroy. It's not your responsibility to destroy those, Harry; your duty is only to overcome Voldemort so you can live out your own life. There's a prophecy – Dumbledore knows about this – which makes clear that either you or Voldemort must die at the hand of the other. I will now explain to you how..._

But Harry wasn't reading any further. Already there was so much to take in that he laid himself back on his bed, the sheets of parchment still clutched in his hands, and pondered his fate. Minutes passed as he stared at the ceiling. _I have to kill Voldemort. That's just... great._ Then, after a while, _I, myself, have to? Not my future self? Before 2004? When?_ He sifted through the sheets of parchment to find the one he'd reached, then continued reading...

 _Details of the prophecy and everything else are on the last page but in brief, you'll need friends to help you – that's what the four-way mirrors are for – and, most important, those filmy separators you discarded from the biscuit tin!_

Harry swung his legs off the bed and looked around for the bits of plastic wrapper he'd chucked out of the shortbread tin. There they were – they'd drifted onto the floor. He examined them. Both were round, transparent, and slightly baggy, but one was dark like sunglasses. He peered through it but could not see anything special – not much at all actually.

The mirrors came under his scrutiny next. The backs were opaque so they weren't like one-way glass for spying on people. Baffled, he picked up the message once more.

 _The mirrors are like video phones – one for you and each of your friends. I urge you to practise hand gestures and mouthing words silently. Just whisper or mouth their name, or anything really, and the mirrors will know who you want._

"Cool!" Harry grabbed the nearest mirror and held it up like a microphone. "Hello?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement in one of the other mirrors, and lunged for it. He was in both mirrors! Not his normal reflection but the reflection he'd expect from one mirror was showing in the other one, and vice versa.

"That is so brilliant! Ron and Hermione are gonna love these!" He wondered then who the fourth one was for. Ginny was too young to be involved in anything so dangerous as... he gulped. Reality was beginning to sink in. _Voldemort!_ He was supposed to face Voldemort again? Perhaps in a few years when they've all left school, he'd have the courage. But nagging him was the annoying idea he'd read something to suggest it might be a bit sooner. He scanned back impatiently through the sheets but couldn't find anything, so he continued:

 _The clear film is actually the eye scale from the Basilisk. This is most important because once you've immersed the eye in snake tears and covered it with the scale then the eye will KILL if anyone even glances in its direction! So make sure you then cover it with the dark film. That way they only get petrified forever! Well, unless someone administers a draught of Mandrake Restorative. Seriously, you'll also need to cover the bean can. For that, you'll notice the body of the can is made of strengthened steel and the biscuit tin fits tightly over the open end like a lens cap to protect it securely. Voilà! You have a deadly, petrifying laser cannon that can be aimed at the enemy. But that task must be entrusted to a friend because YOUR job is to ensure the Dark Lord dies after your own death!_

Harry blinked. This was getting to be too much. The sky was darkening outside and Hedwig was flexing her talons in preparation for the nightly hunt. If only Harry's life could be that simple! He reached for the KitKat then changed his mind and opened up a snack bar. A sniff told him it seemed safe enough so he took a bite. It was good so he wolfed it down. Pretty soon his hand reached out for another.

 _All the information you need is on the last sheet of this message. Study it carefully. The main thing to remember is to gather your friends because the eye won't survive very long so all of this operation must be carried out over the next few weeks._

Harry snorted chewed-up cereal and raisins up his nose and went into a coughing fit. Hedwig, who had spread her wings for flight through the open window, hesitated and turned back to look at her master.

"WEEKS?" spluttered Harry, seizing the Coke can and taking a big swig to clear his throat. "YOU'RE INSANE! That's just brilliant! I go totally Barking mad by the time I'm in my twenties!" He stared morosely at the letter to make sure he'd read it correctly:

"One more thing, do NOT open the KitKat or you'll be dead in seconds – the chocolate contains the most lethal cocktail of caustic contact toxins known to Muggles – but not to dark wizards. Get it?

The bed groaned and creaked as Harry slumped down onto it once more. "Hedwig, you'd better hang on. I've got three urgent messages to send right away..."

.

Ginny's Reaction

Ginny Weasley stared in disbelief at the new message from Harry Potter:

 _Ginny, a sort of secret emergency project has cropped up and I need help with it. It's risky and will take a week or so to finish. I've asked Ron and Hermione too but I need one more. I was wondering if Fred or George might volunteer. Are you all together there in London? The thing is, they're old enough to get away and say it's a holiday or something. What do you think?_

 _If one of them can, then I need to meet him tonight to at least discuss when and where we can get started. Nobody can come here obviously but I've got my Firebolt in my trunk so I can get out the window. Ask them if they know anywhere we can both reach quickly._

 _I know this is a bit of a rush but I'm really desperate and I don't know who else to turn to. Please help me, Ginny._

 _Harry_

With a very thoughtful expression, Ginny quietly rolled up the parchment and stared at Hedwig on the windowsill. "Hermione's talking to Ron in his room. Have you already given them their messages?"

Hedwig hooted positively.

Ginny hesitated no more. Grasping a small piece of parchment in her right hand, and a quill in her left hand, she sat down to write a reply.

.

The Pointing Girl

When a moth flew into Harry Potter's bedroom chased by Hedwig, Harry sprang up to his feet. The moth was snatched from the lampshade by one mighty set of talons, and while Hedwig ate, Harry took the scrap of parchment he saw attached to her leg and read its brief message:

 _Remember Stoatshead Hill near The Burrow where we took that old boot Portkey to the World Quidditch match? Be there by ten-thirty tonight. It's a long flight but you can make it in less than an hour so best take advantage of the darkness._

Frowning, Harry wondered whether it was Fred's or George's handwriting. Neither Ron nor Hermione had replied yet but it definitely wasn't either of theirs. Perhaps the three had discussed it between themselves and were travelling together? Yes, of course, that must be it. They must all be back at The Burrow, so the hill was very convenient for them.

Quickly he scribbled a note for his Aunt and Uncle to say he was hungry and thirsty and desperately needed someone to talk to so he'd gone to stay with friends and would be back in a week or so, then dropped it on his bed. He stared morosely at the beans stain on the floor, scuffed it uselessly with his foot, and muttered, "Aunt Petunia will go mental when she sees that."

Carefully pushing the refilled carrier bag into his backpack Harry edged out onto the window ledge with his broomstick.

"I'll be away for at least a few hours, Hedwig, but if it's days or even weeks, I know you'll be able to find me. I'll leave the window open for you."

Hedwig hooted and Harry sped off westward along the same route the twins had taken the flying Ford Anglia when they'd rescued him three years earlier. The air was still warm but fresher and more pleasant than down in the streets below. There was no need to soar very high and he could pick out the well-lit roads easily as a guide. It was pleasant after being stifled and locked in his room for hours. He was soon enjoying himself, and the minutes passed swiftly.

By the time the lights of Ottery came into view, Harry was eager to see the surprise on Hermione's face when he outlined his plan. He couldn't tell her and Ron everything at once, of course, but just a little would, he knew, get Hermione agitated and cautious. Still, she'd come round in the end because she'd never let him down yet. Probably Hermione would be the most reliable one to handle the basilisk eye, he thought; she's good in a tight spot. His thoughts went back to how coolly she had got them past the Devil's Snare in their first year at Hogwarts. Neville had tried to stop them that night and she'd dealt with him easily too – not that he was much of a challenge! Still, good old reliable Hermione, he thought happily.

The dark figure waving a dimly glowing wand in the blackness might be her, he thought, as he homed in on the target, descending in a tight spiral to land at her side.

Almost before he landed, she said, "I've borrowed a broom but we can walk from here, if you'd rather."

"Ginny? Wha–?"

"Fred and George have started up a mail order business so neither of them can get away at short notice."

"Did they say that themselves or – what about Ron and Hermione? I thought they'd all come together."

"Harry, they... they thought it was a ruse."

"A what?"

"They thought you were just trying to lure them away so you could uuh... you know, interrogate them as to what's going on."

Harry frowned in the darkness. "Is that what you think too? That it's all made up? That I've got nothing better to do than make up things like... like what happened to Cedric! And Voldemort's back!"

"NO, of course not! I'm here aren't I?"

Harry paused for a moment. "Erm... yes, but... yeah, sorry, Ginny. Thanks anyway for coming out to tell me. Guess I'll have to think of something else."

"You need two more helpers and somewhere to organise whatever you've got in mind. I know just who and where."

She started walking off down the far side of the hill and Harry could do no other than follow, broomstick dragging behind him. "What are you talking about? I need three not two – and not just anybody!"

"It sounded important. It's to do with You-know-who, isn't it?"

"Well..."

"Thought so."

Harry hurried after the girl. "Slow down, Ginny. It's far too dangerous. You can't seriously be thinking of coming yourself?"

"Why not?"

"Just like that? Don't you want to know what's up?"

"You said it was important so here I am." She increased her pace.

"Look, Ginny, you don't have to do this just to..."

"Just to what?" She stopped and whirled around, challenging him.

"Nothing. I mean, it could be dangerous. It _will_ be dangerous"

"What, like some of the stuff you did when you were eleven? Or like rescuing me from Riddle when you were twelve? Or duelling You-know-who now you're 'only' fourteen?"

"Yeah, but I got lucky. Ginny, this is serious–"

"I'll be fourteen in a few weeks time, Harry. Or do you think you're better than I am?" She stomped off down the hill again, a little more huffily.

Harry decided to try another deterrent. "But what about your mum and dad! They'll do their nuts!"

"I told them that Luna – that's my friend – has invited me over for a few days. They don't mind so long as I stay in touch so they know I'm alright."

"Is that where we're going now? To your friend's house? I can't tell her anything, you know."

"Of course you can – she'll be your third man and–"

Harry groaned. "How old is she?"

"A lot older than me and–"

"Well, that's something I suppose. What year's she in? I hope she's sensible and clearheaded in a crisis like Hermione."

"Erm... Oh, and we've another friend coming over tomorrow."

"Who?"

Ginny fell silent as they reached the bottom of the hill and they began to skirt along a little brook until they found stones they could step over.

"Who, Ginny?"

"Huh? ... Oh yeah, it's Neville."

Harry stopped - balanced on a stepping stone in the middle of the stream with his broom to steady himself. " _Our_ Neville? You mean the one at Hogwarts?"

Ginny turned at the edge of the water to face him. "How many Nevilles do you know?"

"Yeah, but, I mean... Neville? Seriously?"

"He's trustworthy and reliable and considerate. _He_ asked me to the Yule Ball when some people couldn't be bothered even though they couldn't find a date at all." She stamped her foot and brook water sprayed into Harry's face. "Oops!"

Dripping, Harry stood transfixed for a few more seconds then he swung his leg over his Firebolt. "Let's fly for a bit. I want to see this Lena before I make up my mind. Is she in Gryffindor? What about her parents?"

Ginny mounted her own broom and they cruised slow and low through the trees. "It's Luna not Lena, and she's a Ravenclaw. Her mum's dead and her dad's away on business."

"He left her on her own?"

"No, she's invited me."

"But I thought you made that up?"

"I did – but he doesn't know."

Harry nearly swerved into a branch trying to figure that out. He was wondering how to get out of this mess. It did seem an interesting development that Ginny, who would be his wife one day, was now entangled with him over this project. Perhaps this is how they are supposed to get closer.

"There it is – top of that hill," said Ginny.

"Is that her halfway down the slope, sending up green sparks?" said Harry.

"Must be. Told you she was sensible."

Harry couldn't remember Ginny saying any such thing but he kept his mouth shut.

"Luna!" Ginny had jumped off her broom and was dragging it after her. Harry did likewise.

"Oooh, this is exciting!" said the girl. She had long straggly blonde hair glowing sickly green in the light from the sparks which were still being sent up into the night sky. Harry had the curious sensation he'd seen her recently – probably at Hogwarts.

"This is Harry," said Ginny.

"Yes. I'm Luna."

Harry nodded. "Look, no offence but my project is kind of private so er..."

"That's nice. I like secret adventures." She began walking up to the house – which looked like a tall tower – still casting the green sparkles upwards.

"Well, it's not just secret, it's really, really dangerous."

"For who?"

Harry pulled a face, unseen in the darkness. "All of us."

"How do you know?"

He appealed to Ginny. "Tell her I don't make things up."

"No, I think she's got a point. How _do_ you know?"

"What do you mean, how do I know! I know what has to be done!" The two of them were beginning to exasperate Harry.

"But sometimes things are not so risky as they seem," said Luna serenely, swirling herself round and round as they walked, so as to send up a spiral of green, yellow, red, and blue stars.

Harry glared angrily at her trivialising his situation. "Oh sure, well if you think breaking into the Ministry, stealing a Prophecy, fighting Death Eaters, and capturing Voldemort is not risky then I guess I must be stupid!"

Ginny stopped on the track. "You're not serious?"

"No, just joking," said Harry. "I was really planning a terrifying safari where we hunt earthworms so we can all go fishing."

"Earthworms are not terrifying and I don't believe we're going fishing at all," said Luna. "You're not very good at keeping secrets, are you, Harry Potter? You need to practise not getting irritable when someone tries to open you up."

Harry flung his arms out in annoyance at the girl who seemed to think this was just an amusing diversion. More coloured lights were flaring into the heavens.. "Would you please. Stop. Doing... that..." He paused and stared up at the sky. The firmament was aglow with very precise patterns – a celestial sphere of colour gently rotating and descending around them, all guided by this flimsy little girl.

""How'd you mix and smear so many sparks like that – and so exactly?" he murmured, transfixed by the splendour, even as it began to fade.

"It's just painting the sky," said Luna.

"But the Ministry will–"

"Oh, Daddy leaves his magic hat at home so the Underage Trace thinks he's still here. Otherwise how could anyone make tea or wash the dishes!"

"Told you she was smart and capable," said Ginny. "You need someone who's smart and capable."

But Harry was still gazing up at the exactitude of Luna's light show. "What I really need," he murmured thoughtfully, "is someone who can point very, very accurately."

He turned to Ginny. "How would you like to get back at Lucius Malfoy for what he did to you with that diary?"

Luna cried, "Ah, her nemesis – so it's fate! ... Except Bellatrix is in Azkaban, so that can't be right."

Harry stared at the girl in what remained of the colours raining down around them. "How on Earth could you know she's involved?"

"I told you Luna works things out better than anyone," said Ginny.

Harry didn't even raise an eyebrow. "What if I told you that because I'm here tonight, there's going to be a big breakout of Death Eaters from Azkaban?" he said to Luna. "I mean, Voldemort intended it for next year but because very soon everyone will say Harry Potter has gone missing, then You-know-who will hurry his plans along.

"I would say you know the future somehow. Yes, that would be right then," she added dreamily, almost to herself.

Luna led them indoors directly into a quaintly-rounded kitchen dining area which was softly lit by a host of candles around the walls and on cupboards. Her hair was luminous in the candle glow and again Harry had the strangest sensation he already knew her. But she looked very young and he shook his head.

"What did you mean, 'nemesis'? How'd you know so much?"

"Well you planned it very cleverly so Ginny gets revenge on Lucius Malfoy; Neville avenges his parents by recapturing Bellatrix Lestrange; you, Harry, capture You-know-who; and I... I don't know what I do," she added almost mournfully. "I almost wish I had a nemesis."

"Luna," said Harry softly. "I never planned it this way and you're wrong about me capturing Voldemort. _You_ are the one who must capture him while I finish him off once and for all."

Luna's stare was unreadable.

"So we're set?" asked Ginny in a hopeful tone.

Harry sighed. "No. It does seem fated I must admit, but..." He looked more closely at Luna now she was in the light then frowned. The girl looked as dotty as she sounded, with a bottle cork necklace and what appeared to be tiny vegetable earrings. As he studied her, she tucked her wand behind one ear like a pen. His frown deepened suspiciously. "How old are you Luna?"

"Why, I'm the same age as you, Harry," she replied brightly. "I'm fourteen."

"But I'll be fifteen in a matter of weeks!"

"Me too! Every fourteen year-old will be!" she said excitedly." She pointed up the metal spiral staircase in the centre of the room. "Ginny's sleeping with me. What about you?"

Harry's eyes bulged. "No, no! I'll manage, erm..." He looked wildly about the kitchen, his cheeks suddenly hot.

Ginny giggled. "She means where would you like to sleep, Harry. There are a couple of couches on the next floor up."

"Uuh... yes, but don't you want some er... privacy?"

"Boys!" Ginny shook her head. "The bedrooms are on the floors above that."

"Ah, right..."

"I like boys," mused Luna, distantly.

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

 _In case you were wondering, snakes do not have movable eyelids (they don't blink) nor do they shed tears. They have a transparent eye scale over each eye (as part of the entire skin) and their tears flow beneath it. However, in this story I might use the word eyelid here and there to mean the eye scale._ :)

 _Thanks to everyone for comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful._ :)

 **\- Hippothestrowl**

.


	3. Preparing

.

 _So far...It's the hot summer of 1995. Harry briefly met his future self and wife who gave him instructions on how to deal with the Prophecy and urged him to seek help from his friends. Only Ginny responded and has led him to Luna's home. Now read on..._

.

 **Chapter 3**

 **Preparing**

* * *

.

Wishes

 _A sense of being trapped and a longing to escape drew Harry onward down a windowless corridor ending in a black door. Somehow he knew it would be locked. It was always locked. But if he could just–_

The sound of knocking awoke Harry from his recurring nightmare the next morning. At least the dreams were bearable now his future self had explained them. Sun was streaming in through two of the parlour windows illuminating the bright blue fabric of the settee upon which he was sprawled. Rising quickly, he stretched his stiff limbs and listened to the voices from downstairs.

"Neville! You're early!" That sounded like Ginny's voice. "This is Luna. Harry's not up yet."

Rubbing his bleary eyes, Harry listened to their greetings then the smell of sausages cooking roused him to dress and make his descent.

"Hello, Harry," said Neville, uncertainly. "I wanted to come right away when I heard, but Gran said it could wait till this morning. She said what's in the Daily Prophet is rubbish. She's cancelled our subscription. We believe you about You-know-who being back."

"We do too," said Luna, very positively.

A surge of emotion gripped Harry for a few seconds, and he pretended to rub sleep out of his eyes as he looked around at the strange gathering of new companions.

Ginny seemed to misunderstand his gaze. "I've only told him what was in your message, Harry - that it's kind of an emergency project. It was obvious it must be about You-know-who."

"Uuh, right. Perhaps we–"

"We should eat our Plimpies first," said Luna, firmly, heading for the stove, "then we can discuss details with clear heads. I'll brew a nice pot of tea."

Ginny grinned at Harry. "They're fried fishcakes – but we've got sausages and bacon and toast as well."

The Lovegood's big old kettle had to be hovered to the sink to be filled. Harry looked over Luna's shoulder out one of the sunny back windows. "Why have you got a well out there if water's on tap? And how can you have a well at the top of a hill?"

"Oh, Daddy made it. He used to have to walk all the way down the back of the hill to the old well then one of Mrs Wiggley's elequants fell down it so–"

"Her what? You mean 'elephants'? Don't tell me your neighbour keeps a herd of elephants in the next field!"

Luna's laughter rang out and an echo tinkled back from the well. "Don't be silly, Harry, elephants can't talk!"

There were tears of merriment in her eyes as she swerved Harry over to another back window and pointed down the hill towards a mass of scruffy foliage. "Oh, no you can't see the old well anymore because it's overgrown with bogweed now, but anyway Daddy capped the old shaft off because Mrs Wiggley was mighty annoyed and told her elequants to gossip and poop noisily every day beside it, so Daddy made this new well up near the house."

Harry blinked in confusion. Not far behind him he could hear Neville and Ginny giggling together.

"But still... I mean... you can't just have a well on top of a hill, can you?"

"Of course you can. What goes down must come up – everyone knows that. He used a spell to divert the underground water so it flowed up and around the south slope instead of towards the original well. The water comes out from the ground at the foot of the west side – that's the stream you passed when you arrived."

"Ah, right. But why bother with a well when you have an indoor tap?" Harry craned his neck forward and could see a big brass pipe from the new well to the house.

"Why, because it's pretty, don't you think? Anyway, it's a wishing well. Oh, would you like to make a wish!" Luna left the kettle in the sink and pulled Harry to the back door. "Hey, everyone, we're all going to make wishes!"

They gathered outside. Neville tripped over the brass pipe, grabbed awkwardly at the well handle and ended up leaning dizzily out over the well shaft. Ginny took his arm to draw him steadily back and grinned. "You nearly did an elequant then, Nev."

"It's the Wrackspurts," Luna said serenely. "They slip in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy if you lean over a steep drop."

"It's beautiful," said Harry, now he could examine the well close up. The creamy stone blocks set off the surrounding greenery while purple clematis smothered the wooden struts as if supporting the pretty, red-tiled roof with blossoms that spread a heady fragrance.

"I wish I had a well like this in our garden," said Neville.

"Good wish!" cried Luna. "Throw in a Sickle quickly. I wish for..." She closed her eyes, fell silent, then threw in her own coin. "Harry."

"Me?" mused Harry. The sunlit scene had a dreamy, soporific quality, and he'd still not quite woken up.

"She means it's your turn," said Ginny.

"Ah, right. Erm..." He frowned. "Uuh... world peace?" He only had a Knut in his pocket so in it went.

"I know what I wish for with all my heart," said Ginny, staring hard at Harry's face. She dropped in an entire golden Galleon.

"Ginny!" cried Harry. He knew she could ill afford it.

"It's really important," the girl replied, and swept Neville back into the house.

"What was that all about?" Harry muttered aloud to himself, watching her go.

"It must be true love," murmured Luna, startling Harry who'd forgotten she was behind him.

.

The Monstrous Book of Nonsense

While they ate, Harry noticed Ginny was in deep, whispered conversation with Neville about something or other. He seemed to be squirming a little. Maybe he was having second thoughts and she was still trying to convince him. It was impossible for Harry to imagine Neville duelling a Death Eater in a few weeks' time. The whole idea of these three kids being at his side dying like Cedric had was repugnant and unacceptable. Grimacing, Harry looked away and saw Luna was studying his own face with her head tilted on one side.

Quickly, he blurted out to everyone, "I can't pretend it won't be dangerous. So you need to give it a lot of thought. No shame in backing out before it's too late. In fact you should. You haven't a clue how bad it will be, and I don't want to see anyone else die."

"But then what would you do?" said Luna.

Harry had no answer to that and stabbed at his last piece of bacon instead.

"Would you run away as well as us?" persisted Luna.

"Can't." Harry decided to pour himself another cup of tea.

Ginny looked across then. "Why not?"

"Uuh, I mean..." Everyone's eyes were now on him. "Well, there's a sort of prophecy thing."

Luna clattered her knife and fork onto her finished plate and clapped her hands high. "I knew it was fate!"

"Yes, well... it's not that clearcut. Don't think everything will just fall into place. Nothing is guaranteed."

"What does the prophecy say exactly, Harry?" said Neville.

"Well... I can't remember it word for word, but it's me or him – Voldemort, I mean."

"Who told you that?" said Ginny.

Harry shrugged. How could he tell them? "Not important."

"But you've been planning this, right?" said Neville with a puzzled frown.

"Erm..."

"Harry," said Ginny, "if we're all going to risk our lives, we deserve to know everything, don't we?"

Looking round at the three of them: Ginny, still very young; Neville who often forgot to tie his shoelaces then tripped over them; and a dotty girl with vegetables in her ears, the truth was, Harry had not really believed this was actually going to happen with them. But then, who else? Maybe it _was_ fate the four of them had come together. His future self must have known but hadn't said specifically who his friends would be. He'd assumed–

"Harry?" said Ginny.

"Huh... yeah..." He reached down to his backpack which, considering its deadly contents, he always kept close. "This is what the prophecy says."

He read it out to them, finishing with, " _and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives._ So, you see it's not cut and dried. He might kill me – might kill us all."

Luna laughed. "Well, that would be a silly kind of prophecy then wouldn't it?"

Harry stared at her dumbly.

"I've got _The Monstrous Book of Nonsense_ upstairs with illustrations," the girl continued. "One of my favourite stories is about a wicked dragon that terrorises a village and lots of brave knights come to joust the beast but they all get killed. The villagers turn to a sorcerer who lives in the nearby hills. He'd had a vision that a particularly brave knight wearing silver armour would arrive within seven sunsets and use his magic sword on the creature. Hooray! cried the villagers, are we then saved at last? But the wizard said, no, the knight gets killed like all the others."

Harry shook his head trying to think it through.

Luna said, "You-know-who has killed plenty of people so why should anyone foretell another of the same? Wouldn't that be nonsense like my story?"

Ginny's mouth was open wide. "You're right! She's right, Harry. Think about it. It would be a really dumb prophecy to predict You-know-who kills someone again. Even I could predict that! It only makes sense if–"

"–if _I_ defeat _him!"_ Harry slapped the table with his hand. "And it's already happened!"

"What?" frowned Neville.

"Uuh, I mean, it could go wrong but at least I know it _can_ be done because..." He delved down into his bag again for another sheet of the message which he then re-read silently.

After a while, Neville spoke up. "Cards on the table, Harry. Ginny's right, we deserve to know everything if we might get killed. Who's that from?"

Harry looked up thoughtfully. "Me. It's from me."

More silence.

"We're not turning back, Harry," said Neville, firmly. "We're all in this now so you have to tell us everything."

Looking round at their expectant faces, and thinking how rapidly everything had happened since only late yesterday afternoon, Harry came to a decision. "It's from myself years in the future."

Ginny gasped. "Impossible. Time-turner's can only–"

"It wasn't a Time-turner, Ginny. Somehow I found – or rather..." He thought for a couple of seconds trying to remember. "Or rather my Mum – I mean, my future... wife–" he glanced furtively at Ginny but carried on quickly, "–found a way to divert a Floo back through time. Makes sense because Floo travel bypasses space so where else does it go but through time? But they said they can only work it once very briefly so–"

"You grow up and become married – how adorable!" cried Luna. "I always wanted you to be happy and not get killed!"

"Erm... thanks, Luna, but there's no guarantee I will, only that it's possible."

"Who do you marry?" smiled Ginny. "Is she pretty?"

"Uuh, mmm... it was dark and – oh yeah, they gave me this..."

With a flourish, he pulled out the carrier bag.

"Oh, wow!" said Ginny, dryly. "Muggle groceries!"

"I've always loved carrier bags," said Luna. "Might I have that when you've finished with it?"

"Sure, knock yourself out," said Harry, tipping out the contents and passing the Aldi bag to Luna who grabbed it eagerly and began swatting it over her head.

"Now some of this stuff is lethal so pay attention. The KitKat is deadly – and I don't just mean eating it. You need only get some on your skin."

Neville and Luna frowned in sarcastic disbelief but Luna said, "Oh, that is so messy when chocolate melts in your hand. We use a spell so it always–"

"Yeah, " interrupted Harry, impatient with the cavalier attitude that everyone was displaying. "Well in this case your hand would probably melt in the chocolate – don't touch it no matter what!"

"What's that?" said Neville pointing to the bean can with the biscuit tin jammed on top like a lid.

"Silent weapon. It's–"

Ginny giggled and reached for the can. "Yeah, Dean told me all about Muggle baked beans."

Harry jumped up. "I'm serious, Ginny! There's a basilisk eyeball in there so be careful!"

Ginny's fingers sprang back as if she'd touched a hot flame. Jaws dropped and they all sobered up then.

"I can't believe you've got the eye of a basilisk after all that happened in my first year!" cried Ginny.

"There's a lot of things you're not going to believe before we're done – all of you," said Harry, sinking down with a rather dismal expression.

"So what's in that other can?" asked Neville.

"Snake tears. Nearer the day, we'll pour that in to activate the eye."

"It must have cried an awful lot," said Luna, sadly.

"And those?" said Ginny, pointing to the transparent films laying in the biscuit lid.

"Snake eyelids. We'll use those to cover the eye to keep in the teardrops and also so it only petrifies not kills – that's what the dark one's for, see it?"

"Why not use a mirror like Hermione did in second year?" said Neville.

"Uuh, because then we'd need a more complicated arrangement, I guess, and light might reflect off a mirror and reveal where it's – but that reminds me." He dug down into his backpack and pulled out the four mirrors his future self had given him and handed them out.

"Oh, Luna," giggled Ginny, puckering her lips theatrically as she examined her reflection in the looking glass, "do you think I need an eensy-meensy smidgen more rouge in my cheeks?"

"No, these are for–" began Harry, hotly.

"Yes and a little glint on your lashes would be – oh, I'm looking at you!"

"Me too! Your nose is shiny! We'll have to make up each other!"

"But what about Neville?"

"There he is! His lips need touching up but otherwise they are very nice!"

"Does this mean you'll have to brush my hair or can we still use the bathroom one as well?" frowned Neville.

"–communicating with each other," Harry finished, rolling his eyes.

He opened the crisp packet next and tipped out the badges. "There's one each. Which name do you want?"

There was a scrabble.

"Marylin – what a lovely name!" cried Luna.

"Bagsy Madonna." Ginny pinned the badge onto her top.

"Which do you want, Neville?" said Harry, dryly.

"Uuh... would it be alright if I'm... Mr Starr?" he said hopefully.

"Sure. I'll be Elvis then."

Reverently, Neville picked up his badge. "Mr Starr... wow!" He ran his fingers over the name, looking round at everyone else's. "Who are they? What they for, Harry?"

"They're just for visitors to the Ministry. Officially we'll be there on a careers advice trip. We'll only be visible briefly but someone might notice if we're not wearing badges because we obviously don't work there."

"These are lovely secrets!" cried Luna, eyes darting over all the packets. "What's inside that KP one? They look like dried Flobberworm droppings, I think."

Harry's mouth firmed impatiently. "Ignore those – they're only salted peanuts, let's..." Everyone was gawping at him to explain further. He sighed. "Right. Fine! Try them. Maybe they'll straighten you out." Harry pushed the pack to Ginny.

"I'll Pass," she said with a wince.

"Pass," shuddered Neville, shoving them over to Luna.

Luna tipped a few out into her hand then transferred one to her mouth. "How do they work? What do they do? Do they make you hear things?" she crunched.

"Do? They're just nuts!"

A couple of seconds passed. Harry let out a sudden roar of frustration. He pushed himself up and turned irritably away from the table, knocking his chair over as he did so. "Look, none of you really get it yet, do you! You all think this is some exciting adventure game! You've no idea what it's really like to face Death Eaters!"

Keeping his back to them, he stared out through the open window. A scarecrow – arms spread wide and robes like a sail – turned Harry's way in a new breeze that had sprung up out of nothing. He felt the air's coolness on his face. It relieved the humidity but not his hot temper.

Ron and Hermione had taken risks with him in first year, he pondered. Ron had even been knocked unconscious but they'd been too young to realise how close to dying they were. In second year Ron would have died for sure if the rockfall hadn't stopped him proceeding with Harry to fight the basilisk – Hermione too, if she hadn't been petrified. Always it had been Harry facing the worst danger alone and escaping by sheer luck. That's how it had been in fourth year too: Cedric, a skillful seventh year, had been despatched as casually and thoughtlessly as stepping on a bug. These naïve misfits with him now were all going to die, he just knew it: bumbling, stumbling Neville; kooky and quirky oddball Luna; and a starstruck Ginny dazzled by the apparent invulnerability of the Boy-who-lived. How had he got himself into this? The plan already carried out by his future self needed three friends. He couldn't take them to their deaths, but neither could he proceed without them – there was no one else.

The awkward silence behind him was broken by fidgeting and scraping of chairs on the floor.

"Then tell us, Harry," came Neville's voice.

"Tell you what?" Harry said, half over his shoulder.

"You said we don't know what it's like. So teach us."

Harry's shoulders sank in resignation and he rejoined the others at the table. They sat down again and waited.

"There's a record of the Prophecy at the Ministry, and Voldemort – his real name's Riddle – wants it badly," he began, then hesitated. "There's some kind of connection between me and Riddle – ever since he gave me this." He pointed at the scar on his forehead.

"A connection?" said Neville.

"Yeah. It means I sometimes have bad dreams – sort of glimpses into his thinking."

"What!" cried Neville, "but that means– what does that mean?"

"They're only fragments when he's excited or upset. But the main thing is, he knows this and is deliberately giving me feelings about the Prophecy room at the Ministry to lure me there."

"It's a trap," said Luna firmly.

"Yes, but more than that. Riddle doesn't want the public or Fudge to know he's back until he's stronger, so he's reluctant to go and get the Prophecy himself in case he's seen. My plan is to go months earlier and let someone at the Ministry overhear that I'm about to take the Prophecy – so Voldemort won't have time to do anything but rush there himself with Bellatrix. Lucius will be the one already at the Ministry. We'll turn Voldemort's trap upon himself."

"So you can stop him getting the Prophecy?" said Ginny.

"No, I intend to let him take the Prophecy from me. That will be his downfall." He held up the KitKat while looking at them all very meaningfully.

.

No Chance

For the next few days, Harry was busy showing the other three how to cast the stunning spell which he'd learned for the final task in the Tri-wizard Tournament. The charm was just as effective as the killing curse except it could be blocked by a shield spell if the victim saw it coming. The plan was not to let the enemy see it coming.

Harry was taking no chances. They were practising on the scarecrow as a target dummy in the garden. As well as the unpredictable wind, Harry also turned the target randomly using a weak summoning charm on either of its outstretched arms. The drill was to shoot the dummy in the back without being seen. If the scarecrow turned enough for the caster to see the corner of its eyes before the charm hit then they were failed and had to try again. Multiple hits were a bonus.

The casters hid behind a high row of seed tray shelving so had some degree of movement left and right to avoid the 'gaze' of the dummy.

"Don't expect to take on Lucius or Bellatrix in a fair duel – you'll lose. Our one chance is surprise," cautioned Harry. "You'll all be in shadow, waiting for the signal. Don't be noble. Don't shout or challenge them. Neville, just hit Bella right in the back as we've been practising. Ignore everything else. Repeat as many hits as you can so at least one should strike home. Ginny, you do the same with Lucius."

"My pleasure," growled Ginny.

"What's the signal, Harry?" said Neville.

"Either Voldemort squealing like a scared pig or else shouting the killing curse at you. Remember, if he tries to kill you, what do you do?"

"Stupefy him first?" said Neville.

Harry groaned. "No, you still stun your target which is...?"

"Bellatrix!"

"Right. Don't forget. Your instinct will be to fight back or run but you must focus on your target. Luna and I will take care of Voldemort."

"What happens if you can't?" said Ginny.

"Then either you die or, if you've disposed of your target, you run. There's an alley along the back of the shelves at the Ministry and an exit at either end – look where I paced out those barrels, see? With a bit of luck you'll reach your exit just after he kills you. Any questions?"

"Erm... can't we somehow reach the exit _before_ he kills us?" asked Neville, tentatively.

"One of you might. That's the whole point. While he's killing one of you, the other one could reach _their_ exit in the opposite direction, and escape."

Neville looked at Ginny. Ginny looked at Neville.

"Is that your grand plan, Harry?" said Ginny.

"Look, what I'm saying is, if both Luna's and my attacks on Voldemort fail then you're pretty well dead anyway because Luna and I will be. Riddle is death on legs. Running in two directions in dark shadow gives you at least a tiny chance one of you can get up to the busy public atrium. Ignoring your targets and running won't help because then there'll be three after you and you both die. Don't worry, we're going to rehearse this over and over."

"What, dying?" Neville muttered nervously to Ginny.

"But why am _I_ practising this spell?" said Luna.

"Backup, extra firepower, and self-defence for anything unforeseen. Once you've petrified Voldemort you can go after either of the targets if they're still standing – and so will I. With luck, there'll be four of us stunning those two from different directions in the dark. Right, who wants to be Voldemort?"

"Me! Me!" cried Luna.

"Can you squeal like a dying pig?"

"Ee! Ee!" squeaked Luna.

"That's rubbish," sighed Harry. "Voldemort will be wetting himself with his worst fear, not giggling from a tickling spell. You do realise that Neville and Ginny are going to be crouching in the dark, also frightened out of their wits, probably wondering where everyone is, scared that their target isn't in perfect position, and wondering if they missed the–"

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Luna's shriek was so piercing that Harry's scar was uncovered and a couple of crows sped away to the next county. "Sheesh, Luna, you scared the hell out of me!"

"Is that... good or...?"

"Good? It's BRILLIANT!"

Daily they rehearsed in different arrangements. Luna shrieked then Neville and Ginny stunned the scarecrow and raced each other for the barrels over and over until they were exhausted. The eyeball had been tipped into a bucket of water and stored in a cupboard below the kitchen sink. Luna practised uncapping the empty bean tin and had a moderate-sized melon wedged inside. Harry was Voldemort in these sessions. His scream was no match for Luna's but when he let rip, Luna opened the can. If Harry glimpsed the melon then he froze as if petrified, but it wasn't always that easy. Sometimes he contorted his face up, down, or sideways, and Luna had to stretch or twist to get into his line of sight.

By the end of week one there seemed no further room for improvement, but Harry kept urging them on to be prepared for differing situations.

"What if Bella gets in front of Voldemort?" he asked.

"I ignore her," replied Luna, serenely. "and trust Neville to drop her out of the way."

"What if Voldemort sees you before he screams?"

"He can't. I'll be under your invisibility cloak."

"If he appears to see you?"

"I keep my nerve and wait for his scream."

"Ginny, your stunner is on target but is deflected from Lucius."

"Shield charm. Continue with Stupefy until it breaks down or... as long as I can."

"Longbottom, your dumb, stupid mother deserves to be–"

"TAKE THAT BACK!" Neville advanced angrily on Harry, wand raised.

Ginny called him back. "It's Bella, he means! That's what Bella might say!"

Neville stopped then muttered sullenly, "Well, you shouldn't say things like that anyway."

"You should have stunned me after the first syllable then you'd never have heard it!" shouted Harry. "DON'T TALK – ACT! Don't get into ANY conversation with–"

"STUPEFY!"

Harry barely dodged Neville's stunning spell. "Not good enough! They won't have any cover so she can only dodge left or right. You MUST follow up your stunning spell with more of the same. Which way?"

Neville frowned. "Feint my wand arm to my left but flick the wand right at the last moment?"

Harry nodded. "Or the opposite. Practise it. Remember, we haven't a hope of fighting them on level terms. Our only chance is to train again and again for the few seconds while we remain alive. Our advantage is surprise and temporary concealment. Even so, expect them to react quickly – especially Riddle. Your targets won't be a static dummy like this scarecrow – they'll be dancing." He looked thoughtful for a few moments. "We need more practise with ourselves as live targets. Let's start over with the bandit masks and decoys."

Ginny groaned but took up her position. Each of them pulled up a scarf around their mouth to muffle their soft chants. It wasn't as good as non-verbals but with decoys producing fog and a general background hubbub, they would not give away their positions immediately.

"What are those noises, Harry?" asked Luna.

"Ginny's idea. She got them from Fred and George but they modified them for her. It's a smooth background mixture of crowds and engines and flowing water – plus the drifting fog of course. It's not loud enough to drown out shouts or Voldemort's scream but it will smother our footsteps and muffled incantations and add to the enemies' confusion. And we must begin training after dark because the Hall of Prophecy is full of shadows and very gloomy."

"Which reminds me," said Ginny. "I'll send Mum another owl saying I'm staying here a few more days, playing games in the garden with Luna."

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

 _Three more chapters to go!_ They'll be up every two or three days so don't go away! :)

 _Thanks to everyone for comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful._ :)

 **\- Hippothestrowl**

.


	4. Elsewhere

.

 _So far... It's the hot summer of 1995. After receiving guidance from his future self, Harry, with Ginny, Luna, and Neville, have been training at the Lovegood home to rush Voldemort into going after the Prophecy early, so they can trap him. Now read on..._

.

 **Chapter 4**

 **Elsewhere**

* * *

.

No One Home

While Harry and his friends rehearsed their planned surprise attack in the Lovegood's garden late one evening, elsewhere a quite different group of witches and wizards were also treading along very stealthily...

In the kitchen at four, Privet Drive, there was a loud crash.

"Tonks!" growled a heavyset man with a long mane of grizzled, dark grey hair. One eye swivelled rapidly around the dark room but the other looked apprehensive. He seemed to be doing a headcount of the several figures standing there. "What's through there, Sturgis?"

The orange glow from the street highlighted the head of a man with straw-coloured hair who was leaning through a doorway. "Just the parlour. What's that other door, Mad-eye?"

A handle was turned cautiously. "Dining room," said Mad-eye.

Sturgis Podmore straightened up. "It's ten-thirty; he'll have gone to bed."

"Why are we all standing in the dark?" said Tonks. "Lumos."

"Keep away from the window then!" said Mad-eye. "Lead on Sturgis, you're nearest."

Softly, they ascended the stair.

"That must be it," whispered Podmore. He tried the bedroom door then crouched down. "Locked. From the outside."

"What's that, Remus?"

"Looks like a..." There was a gasp. "Reminds me of the food flaps they have on the doors of the worst Azkaban cells."

"Here? You mean...?"

"But... the Dursleys have been gone days! They refuse to leave the hospital until their son regains his senses. Mad-eye, you don't think Harry's been locked in there all this time?"

"Stand back!" The gruff man with the funny eye raised his wand. "Alohomora."

He cast another light as he pushed in, with the others following.

"By Merlin!" someone cried. "We're too late! All that's left of him is that bloodstain on the carpet."

Remus went over to the desk. "Don't be daft. Looks like dried up tomato sauce. What do you think, Alastor?"

"I think," said the gruff man as he snatched a sheet of parchment off the bed, "that our Harry's–" He scrutinised Harry's message and then the dark sky through the open window.

"Been kidnapped?" said Sturgis. "Is that a ransom note?"

Moody poked at a twig fragment on the sill. "Flown the coop."

"Huh?"

"Absconded. Done a bunk."

"Let me see that," said Remus.

Remus scanned the letter. "Says he's hungry and thirsty and desperately needs someone to talk to so he's staying with friends for a week or so."

"Good for him!" said the young witch called Tonks. "He'll be safer anywhere but here – and likely get some decent food," she added, rubbing the toe of her shoe across the encrusted carpet stain.

"He should never have left without permission!" barked Mad-eye.

"Permission? Who from?" frowned Tonks.

"Dumbledore, of course."

"Did Dumbledore tell him he must stay here all summer?"

"Not exactly, but–"

"Did he tell him we were coming to take him away from here?"

"No."

"Then I can't see that he's done anything wrong," cried Tonks. "These Muggles – the Dursleys – are his legal guardians. From what I've heard and seen they don't care much what he does. Staying with friends is a great idea."

Mad-eye sighed. "Except we've no idea where he is!"

"Then neither does You-know-who."

"That's not the point. He must have the best protection."

"Tonks has a point," said Sturgis. "Why hasn't anybody told Harry that? He's not a mind reader! Does he even know that Dementors were seen in Little Whinging? Did anyone tell him?"

"Not directly but it should have been obvious. His cousin is in hospital with–"

Tonks cried, "The Muggles think he was in a traffic accident! Why should Harry think any different? Seems to me he's not been told anything at all that might help him, so why should we complain if he makes his own choices? He is on holiday after all!"

Remus said, "Whatever the right or wrong, Dumbledore must be informed right away that he's missing."

"I can do that," said Mad-eye, "and Granger and Weasley might know something. Tonks, you'd better interrogate them. Report to me via the Headmaster's office floo."

"Right. I'm on it."

.

Real Friends

"Wotcher, Ron, can I have a word? Is Hermione about?"

"Sure, Tonks. I think she's in the library."

"Come on then."

"What's up?"

"It's Harry. Hold your questions, I may as well speak to both of you together."

The Black's library was a moderately-sized chamber but packed from floor to ceiling with shelves of books. There was only room for a couple of reading tables and Hermione was at one of them, face aglow with lamplight and immersed in _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5._

"Busy?" said Tonks.

"Mmm... just prepping with one of next year's books – we're bound to need this one."

"Hermione, it's about Harry," said Ron, with a meaningful look.

"Oh my goodness, what's happened!" Hermione was on her feet, the book forgotten.

"Nothing much as far as we know. Just wondered if he'd been in touch with either of you?"

"But we've not said a word, honestly!" cried Hermione.

"What did he say?"

"He asked us what's going on, but Dumbledore made us swear not to say anything at all and we haven't, have we Ron!"

Ron shook his head. "We wanted to but..."

"I see. Did he sound... What did he ask, exactly?"

"Just for news and stuff," said Ron. "Obviously he doesn't know about this place or about the Order."

"So Dumbledore's keeping him in the dark?"

"Well, yeah..." said Ron.

"Look, this is official now so if either of you know where he is you'd better say before it goes any further." Tonks' eyes darted about the room as if she expected Harry to leap out from behind a bookcase.

Hermione froze – her hands pressed to her face in horror.

Ron cried, "Oh, Merlin! You don't mean he's – you don't know where he is?"

"I'll need to see your rooms."

"What!" said Hermione. "Surely you can't think we've got him hidden in a cupboard or something?"

"I doubt it but I have to make a complete report of my enquiries. Lead on."

Hermione's room was on the same floor as the library. There were twin beds and wardrobes and Tonks went straight to all of them to look under and inside. Ron stood in the doorway, eyebrows raised in amazement.

"Just you?" said Tonks, as she gazed around for any other possible hiding places.

"Yes, Ginny didn't like this spooky house much, so her mum said she's staying with a neighbour."

Tonks nodded. "Where's your room, Ron?"

"Next floor up. I'll show you, but you're wasting your time." He snorted. "Nobody can get in this house without Dumbledore tells them the address can they?"

"It's just procedure."

Hermione followed them up and stood in Ron's doorway while Tonks went through the same quick search. Abruptly, Tonks' hair turned a deep blue. "What's that?"

Hermione groaned inwardly. Ron had left his travel chest lid up and there was an open parchment lying on top.

"Er... " began Ron, "oh, yeah, that's the latest message from Harry. Kept trying to get us to tell him something. Hedwig practically nibbled my fingers off – look."

But Tonks paid no attention to Ron's scratches. She'd already glimpsed some of the words in the message and snatched it up.

 _Ron, Hermione, I've had a bit of an emergency and really need your help. It's a bit risky but should only take a week or so. Can you get away? It's really important. If so, where can we meet? I wouldn't ask only I'm desperate. – Harry._

Tonks' voice hardened. "What did you tell him?"

"Uuh..." said Ron.

Hermione said, "We didn't. We knew he was just trying to find out something, and Dumbledore made us promise..."

"You ignored him? Your best friend who's been through hell the last few weeks and constantly in danger begged you for help, and you just didn't bother answering? Didn't you even ask him what's wrong?"

"It wasn't like that. If it was serious he'd have owled Dumbledore surely? We're sure he's just... he's – oh, please tell us what's happened!"

"He's missing. Left a note saying he's staying with other friends. At least he does have some _real_ friends," snapped Tonks. "Our concern is not knowing where he is in case of a threat. But his message to you indicates that there may be trouble."

Hermione started crying. "We didn't want to! We thought we had to."

Ron frowned. "Tonks, Harry doesn't know anyone else that well. We _are_ his only real friends. You don't reckon he's been... you know? Tricked into something?" He mouthed the last part while glancing nervously at Hermione, not wishing to upset her further. It didn't work.

Tonks stared at Ron for a moment then rushed for the door. "I'll tell Mad-eye – he's with Dumbledore."

.

Words Apart

The following morning, a brown tawny owl swooped down onto the scarecrow's hat just as Neville struck. Only Harry's quick thinking in casting a shield charm stopped the bird being stunned.

"Merlin, Harry! I didn't know you could do a protection spell!" cried Neville.

"Yeah, learnt it for the maze last year – just as well," he added as the bird fluttered its wings in alarm.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologise," said Harry as he countered the shield, "you did right to leave everything else to me and just focus on pumping stunners into Bella's butt."

Luna, wearing a startlingly bright yellow frock, _on top_ of Harry's invisibility cloak but with the hood down, came running over from her hiding place, "I think those Hogwarts' owls are quite pretty, don't you?"

Harry frowned at the apparently-limbless dress-girl while Ginny was removing a scroll from the bird's talons. "It's for you, Harry."

After unrolling the parchment, he read it half-aloud as the others gathered round:

" _Harry, you must return at once to your home. No one can protect you if they don't know where you are. We'll collect you from there. – Remus Lupin._ "

"Collect me! Like I'm a package?" Inwardly, Harry was fuming that still Dumbledore hadn't contacted him personally, even though his future self had explained the reason why.

"Oh, don't go, Harry! We're having so much fun!" cried Luna.

With a look of disbelief, Harry snapped, "This is not fun, Luna! Lives may be lost! Most likely they will! And look at you! You look...! Well, you look..." Harry couldn't quickly think of a softer alternative to 'stupid'.

There was a strange glimmer in the little blonde-haired girl's eyes as she turned away. "Oh, you're right... it's just that..." She walked slowly back to the house.

"I've never... I don't think I've ever seen her quite like that before," whispered Ginny. "I think you've hurt her feelings, Harry,"

"But...!" Harry's shoulders drooped. He roused himself immediately. "Come on," he said, "we've got messages to write." He strode after Luna, calling back irritably over his shoulder to the owl, "Wait there!"

On the way he asked Ginny, "I've been thinking, who wrote that message for you? Was that a spell? The one about meeting on Stoatshead Hill? I thought before that it was George or Fred, but you said they couldn't–"

"Wrote it myself," grinned Ginny. She whirled her left hand around. "Left-handed, slow and boxy. Normally I write fast and loose with my right. I thought you might not come if you thought it was only me."

Her words took a second to sink in, then Harry stopped his march and waited until Luna's frock-with-head disappeared inside ahead of them. Neville bumped into him and waited, so did Ginny. Harry said, "You were right." They continued on their way.

"About what?"

"Everything."

Ginny stopped again. Neville stumbled again. Harry stopped to look back, shaking his head. "Look, I make mistakes, okay? I'm human not some... superhero. I'm... just Harry."

They resumed their walk more slowly and thoughtfully.

Despite the brightly-coloured decor, the kitchen seemed very dark and subdued after the sunshine and for a few moments, Harry blinked to adjust his eyes to the dim light, wondering if Luna hated him so much she'd gone upstairs. But a flicker of yellow movement over by the stove caught his attention. She'd removed Harry's cloak and laid it carefully across a chair back. Her loose frock – or rather, smock – was slightly rucked up at her waist, and her hair was a-straggle.

"I thought we'd all like a cup of tea," came her soft, dreamy voice from across the room. The teapot lid clunked down and she began gathering teacups and saucers together.

"Er... Luna..."

"Did you want something to write with?" She turned and pointed to the table where parchment, quill, and inkpot already awaited.

"Right. ... Thanks."

He sat down and reached for the quill. Neville and Ginny joined him.

"What you putting, Harry?" said Neville.

"I'm telling Remus that I'm fine and will be back shortly – that's sufficiently vague but it tells them I'm safe and is not too rude."

There was no blotting pad and he felt a little self-conscious about calling to Luna so he left the message face up to dry. Neville leaned over to satisfy his curiosity, smudging the signature with his thumb. "Sorry."

"I want you to write this other message, Ginny," said Harry with a quick glare at Neville, "in your disguised writing."

Glad of something useful to do, she plucked the quill from Harry's hand. "Who's it to?"

"The Daily Prophet."

Everyone gasped. Even Luna hurried over with the tea tray.

Harry continued, "Use your own words so it doesn't sound like me as well. Make up some anonymous message saying you have information that Harry Potter has gone missing and is no longer being protected. Now that Dumbledore and everybody knows I'm missing, they'll think it was one of their own who let the word out."

Ginny stared hard at Harry's expression, decided he was serious, then began writing.

"Why, Harry?" said Neville.

"Voldemort will be most anxious to begin a search. He'll need more men. He'll bring forward his plan to rescue Death Eaters from Azkaban, including–"

"–including Bellatrix," cried Luna. "That's very clever."

"Er... well, not really. I knew in the future that's what happened, so I told myself everything in the message." He gestured at his backpack on the floor at his side.

Luna poured out the tea. "I'm sorry I was so silly earlier, Harry. It's just that... I thought I'd be spending the summer all on my own – you know what that's like – and now it's like having lots of friends round so... perhaps I was too happy."

Everyone gaped at her. Ginny had never heard her _speak_ that way before either.

"Uuh... don't worry about it," mumbled Harry. "Yeah, I _do_ know _exactly_ what that feels like."

Ginny looked at them both rather curiously then went back to scratching away with the quill.

Luna leaned over the table to place a cup of tea before Neville and Ginny but then walked round with Harry's to hand it to him directly. "Did you tell yourself about me in your message?"

Harry snorted hot tea and grabbled in his jeans pocket for a hankie to hide the smirk on his face. "Er, no – I think I'd remember that."

"Oh," said Luna, and sat down again.

Ginny glared sideways at Harry.

"What?" he mouthed.

"How does THIS sound?" she said, rather loudly. " _That arrogant, poncy, attention-seeking prat, Harry Potter, HUGELY embarrassed now that everyone knows his true nature, has run away like a cowardy-custard. His would-be father-figure, Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School, is said to be extremely distressed that the Boy-who-fibbed is no longer under his protection. – signed, a well-wisher._ "

Mouth sagging, Harry blinked at her. "Isn't that just a bit erm..."

"That's brilliant, that is, Ginny!" said Neville. "No one would ever suspect Harry might have sent that to the Prophet!"

"And you really are a well-wisher so it's all true!" cried Luna. "Except for the first part."

Nose in the air, Ginny folded the message wet, seized the other note for Lupin, then strode towards the door. "I'll just send these then."

Harry stared after the girl in shock. Her long hair was flaming in the early sun, but it wasn't quite how he remembered it from the garage alley back in Magnolia Crescent, nor could he help wondering about her tone of voice.

.

Harry's Disappearance

Harry's disappearance was headline news the very next day. He scowled at the Daily Prophet laid out before him. There was even a stock photo of him with a terrified expression on his face disappearing into the distance on his broom; it might have been taken during the dragon task of last year's Tri-wizard Tournament. Ginny's sparse message had been amplified into a full-page spread with comments by many uptight authority figures including the Minister for Magic himself:

 _This simply proves what many have been saying about the show-off. His earlier celebratory status has gone to his head and now he's sulking in a corner because nobody believes his childish nonsense anymore._

He slapped his hand on Fudge's smirking picture, but between his fingers he could still see Lucius Malfoy, carefully posed behind the Minister's right shoulder, delicately peeling off one expensive baby-dragon-hide glove so he could sniff disdainfully into his monogrammed kerchief. Mesmerised by the well-rehearsed and coordinated behaviour, Harry watched the movement over and over until finally, in a jerk of annoyance, he screwed up the newspaper and flung it across the room.

"But isn't that what you wanted?" asked Neville.

"I guess." Harry turned in his chair. "But it's not quite how I originally visualised it."

"So now we wait?" said Ginny.

"So now we wait," said Harry.

.

Free To Go

But it was Harry's birthday before Luna came running excitedly into the parlour with the Evening Prophet blaring the latest news:

MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN ! ! !  
MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS 'RALLYING  
POINT ' FOR ALL OLD DEATH EATERS!

" 'Black'?" said Harry. "Do they mean Sirius?"

But as he looked at the others, Neville was staring transfixed at the picture below the headlines.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," said Ginny.

"What will happen to her, Harry?" Neville said very softly. "After I've put her down?"

Harry paused. He'd only given thought to the action and to capturing Voldemort. The dark wizard's two supporters hadn't seemed so important provided they'd been stunned out of the way.

"We give her a couple more stunners to make sure they'll last for a few hours then we leave her there for the Aurors to arrest. She'll get the Dementor's Kiss for certain – all escapees do."

"And Malfoy?" said Ginny.

A frown crossed Harry's face. There could be no evidence to convict Lucius, and Fudge would never accept Harry's word – he'd made that clear at the end of the previous school year. Luna's testimony? – a girl who attaches radishes to herself and believes in brain-fuzzing Wrackspurts? How about Neville? A boy who'd stammer through his testimony so badly even Harry would have trouble believing him. As for Ginny...

"Harry?"

"We have to let him go," Harry said wearily. "Nobody would believe us, and anyway, we daren't hang about or we'd be arrested just for being there."

"But..."

"He'd deny everything and we couldn't prove it. We leave him stunned with Bella but he'd make up some story like he'd captured her – in fact he'd give her more stuns with his own wand and a full body bind as well, so it could be tested. She'll never get a chance to say what really happened, if I know Fudge."

"What!"

"It's the perfect cover. I'd rather that happen than Malfoy testifies it was me. He'll know I was there but I doubt they'll really see any of you three properly. It'll be gloomy, you'll be in shadow under concealment spells wearing scarves so they don't hear your voices, and Luna will be under my cloak."

Ginny pulled a long face but she could see there was nothing for it. With a bit of luck, Malfoy would break a leg when he fell over and she could always insert a Dungbomb up his nose ready for when he woke up.

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

 _And if you didn't mind that gentle bashing of Hermione and Ron, plus if you like pictures, then check out my one-page comic over at:_  
 **archiveofourown. X org/works/5006320** _(delete the X)._  
 _Don't expect too much – it's only a one-page experiment! We can't include images in our stories here at FFN but at AO3 you can do most anything so I'm gradually copying some of my stories over. All the ones I've done have a wide graphic header at the start, and are right-and-left aligned. I might even do an illustrated fic one day. I'm Tom Haskworth over there which is my name for original work but for now I'm using it for fan fics there as well._ :)

 _Two more chapters to go!_ :)

 _Thanks to everyone for comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful._ :)

 **\- Hippothestrowl**

.


	5. Finalising

.

 _So far... It's the hot summer of 1995. Harry, Ginny, Luna, and Neville have been training at the Lovegood home to trap Voldemort when he tries to take the Prophecy. Now read on..._

.

 **Chapter 5**

 **Finalising**

* * *

.

Glad To Be Us

"We're good as ready," declared Harry, near the end of the first week in August as they sat around the kitchen table. "I know I've pushed you hard every day but I reckon we should ease off now – I don't mean stop completely, because we need to stay fresh and alert for the real thing. Anyway, we have to do it on the twelfth of this month."

"Six days!" cried Ginny, looking at the others as they each slowly digested the reality of what was to happen in less than a week.

"Yeah, listen – mainly you've trained," resumed Harry, "for a very narrow action that will be finished in seconds. We've rehearsed every reasonable thing we can think of that might occur in that time and I've noticed our reactions sort of instinctively deal with them fairly smoothly because we've done everything so many times."

"Don't we know it," muttered Neville, rubbing an aching left shoulder where he'd been stunned by Ginny that morning and missed the cushions when he fell over.

Harry continued, "We've also polished up our movements so we can do them without thinking – which is good because we can then pay more attention to anything unexpected yet know we'll still react to – well, it's a bit like learning to walk so you can erm... do other things like ooh, I dunno... scratch your nose, but you don't forget to uuh keep walking your legs, uuh..." He scratched his head.

"Nicely put, Harry," smiled Luna.

"Thanks, Luna," he said gratefully. "What I meant to say was we could only indirectly train for the unforeseen, but I think we are now flexible enough to switch to... sort of unknown territory if need be. But all of that is within those few seconds where the enemy are startled and confused and not sure where we are. But if we don't disable all of them straight away then our chances will be... mmm..."

"Slim," said Ginny.

"Uuh, I was going to say zero, really. I mean, once they've got over their shock and cast lights and countered our concealments then, well... maybe there's a chance the four of us together might stop _one_ of them but... anyway, what I'm saying we've got to take them out quickly or we're done for. We need a bit of luck. I wish we had Portkeys or something but we don't," he added dismally.

"Brilliant, crystal-clear, morale-boosting pep talk there, Harry," said Ginny, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, I thought it was really good too," said Luna. "We know exactly where we stand so I think we'll win. I think it's they who need the luck. I'm glad I'm not them. I'm glad I'm us."

Neville chuckled, and even Harry had to fight a smile that teased at the corner of his mouth.

The remaining days fled by. Ginny's birthday fell on the day before their planned visit to the Ministry, so everyone tried to relax. Luna baked a cherry cake with a tiny wishing well on top surrounded by fourteen candles, so Ginny got a free wish this time. They tired themselves out with a box of Weasley's Wheezes and every party game they could think of including spin the bottle then went to bed early, trying not to think of the morrow.

.

Checklist

By the time the sun rose on the twelfth day of August, Harry was already down in the kitchen preparing their final meal. Luna had joined him. For a while they spoke quietly together about how nice the day looked and whether the pumpkin season would be a good one this year. Neither of them voiced their fear they might not live beyond this day, let alone to enjoy Halloween.

Luna had been more sombre these last days, and Harry felt guilty about it. She was risking her life because of him, and deserved to have enjoyed what might be the last days of her life. He'd ruined all that for her with his attitude. Her hair was gold in the morning light, and when she smiled innocently up at him, a deep shame took him. "Luna..."

She put a finger on his lips. "The fish are almost cooked. Would you like to wake Neville and Ginny?"

He nodded. In this homely, family environment she seemed quite grownup and not at all her usual scatterbrained self. He wondered if he'd still see her occasionally when he himself had left childhood behind and was married to Ginny. After all, she was Ginny's friend really, not his. That thought seemed very odd suddenly.

"Harry?"

"Oh, yeah, right, Neville and Ginny."

Neville wasn't on his couch when Harry ascended the spiral stair. He tapped softly on the bathroom door and whispered, "Breakfast's nearly ready."

Halfway up the next stair, Harry thought he heard him answer. He looked back, shook his head, then continued ascending. He poked his head up into Luna and Ginny's room and called softly, "Ginny, breakfast is–"

He froze. Neville and Ginny were perched on the edge of her bed in a deep embrace. Their lips and limbs separated as Neville leapt up backwards onto his feet. "Harry! We were just... we were only..."

Harry didn't remember walking down the stair. A large icicle was plunged through his chest. He'd held her future self like a mother back in Little Whinging. That love couldn't have been faked. Could it? And his own future self? His being her husband. Had the whole thing been imaginary? This day today, his life – everyone's life, depended on it. He was still shaking his head in a daze as he entered the kitchen.

"They've been looking at each other since the Yule Ball," Luna said softly. "But Neville was too shy to talk much to her again. That's why Ginny's here. That's why she came. You gave her a good reason to invite Neville. She was sure he'd come... for you."

Dumbly, Harry said, "You knew?"

She nodded.

His chest was still in a vice as he stared at the billy cod poaching gently on the stove. It seemed curious to Harry that the universe could be continuing as if nothing had happened. The sky remained blue, clouds remained fluffy and white, and through the open window came the distant sound of Mrs Wiggley's surviving elequants murmuring softly to each other in the meadow. So peaceful the day...

"Are we doing the checklist over breakfast then?" It was Ginny's voice, quite matter-of-fact. He didn't look at her. He couldn't.

"Mmm," he said and his voice cracked. He cleared his throat with an awkward cough. "Yeah." Then dug the list out of his backpack, still not looking up.

Breakfast was not the last day bonding event it should have been.

"All got your mirrors and know what to do with them and when?" said Harry, one fork on his fish, one eye on his checklist. "You've smashed yours, Nev?"

"Yes," the three replied. Neville held up a small package wrapped in string.

"And it's bowed not knotted? You've practised untying it quickly?"

Neville nodded his head. "Over and over. I'll stick close to Ginny and share hers."

Harry gave him a funny look then growled, "Right."

He lost his place in the list and scowled for a while until he found it again. "Luna, we need to pour in the Pepsi right after this meal."

"Everything's ready."

"Still got my cloak?"

"In my bag." Luna tapped the little hip bag hanging from her chair. "What about rehearsing your speech?"

Harry was about to shake his head but he knew he had no right. "Yeah... erm... ' _Don't come. I can do this on my own now._ Uuh... _I've found..._ erm..."

"Well, that's not very convincing," said Ginny.

"I'll be alright when the time comes," said Harry, rising from the table with the checklist in his hand. "I know it, but I need to get fired up. I'm a bit flat right now," he added with the trace of a glare at Neville.

He read from his list, "Watches?" Everyone nodded. "It'll be six – oh – six in... FIVE... FOUR... THREE... TWO... ONE... now."

"Got it," said Neville.

"Right, spells then. Ginny, you're all ready with your door marker?"

Ginny nodded, and reached down to the side pocket of her jeans. "Wait, what about wands? I know it's stupid but..."

"Yeah, you're right, and it's not stupid. It'd be real dumb if anyone forgot the obvious after all this rehearsing. Everybody show their wands."

Four wands were raised in the air. Ginny chanted, "Flagrate," and cast a bright red X upon the backdoor.

Harry nodded his approval. "Now, Disillusionment Charm. He tapped Neville on the head with his wand.

"Oy!" cried Neville, rubbing the very top of his cranium. "Didn't need to be that hard!" His glare was wasted. They heard him shuddering but only a slight shimmer indicated he was still sitting in his chair.

To counter the charm, Harry rapped him again, even harder, and with a yell, Neville appeared once more. "What was that for?"

"Just making sure," said Harry. There was a malicious note to his voice.

He read from the list again. "Stupefy we've done a million times... mmm... Shield charms."

There were cries of "Protego."

"Yours is still a bit weak, Neville. Luna, if I forget, can you do his once we're in the Prophecy room?"

"I'll do it," said Ginny, firmly. "I'll help Neville. I'll be nearest," she added.

"Uuh... right then. Mmm... now, masks."

They all pulled out their school scarves. Ginny waved hers in the air. Luna was holding hers over her mouth, and so did Neville.

"Remember, it's strength of intention that powers a spell. We only normally shout to increase our intensity but with practice you can just as easily be intense with a softly-spoken incantation. So with these scarves over your mouths as well then you're three-quarters of the way to a nonverbal, especially with the decoys.

Ginny said, "Why've you got a scarf though, Harry? They're going to see you anyway."

"Dunno. Just in case, I guess."

"I don't think you should. I mean, it might tip them off there are others of us hidden there. Anyway, they'll think it odd. You're only supposed to be down there on your own to get the Prophecy. Why would you have a scarf over your mouth?"

"Mmm... maybe you're right." He stuffed his scarf back in his bag. He suddenly felt more apart from the others; like an exposed newcomer among seasoned bandits. Masks seemed to obscure anxiety, and even Neville looked more ruthless than Harry felt right now.

"Next, robes so we blend in, and don't forget to pin your badges on the _outside_ , so do that last. Now, erm... chocolate – yes... decoys – yes... that leaves... let's get your basilisk eye armed and dangerous then Luna."

"How are we going to do this, Harry?" said Neville, rather nervously, as they rose from the table.

"Just me, and I think I should be blindfolded for the last bit." Harry carried his bag over to the sink. "No need for any of you to be in here at all. Safest if you all go outside – and stay away from the windows."

"But I should be the one to do it," said Luna in a sulky tone. "I'll be the one using it."

"No, even while it's harmless, it's too horrible to look at, and even worse to touch."

"I don't mind. Fear of the unknown is worse than what you've got used to. I need to be comfortable with it."

'Comfortable' was not any kind of word that Harry would ascribe to being around a basilisk eye – armed or not – but he relented. "Together then."

.

Feelings

Ginny and Neville dashed upstairs so eagerly that Harry stared after them, regretting his own instruction to the couple.

"I wonder what two of them would be like together?" mused Luna.

"One's as disgusting as the other I reckon," muttered Harry, bitterly.

"Oh, I think they'd be pretty side by side."

When Harry looked round she was gazing down into the bucket where they'd stored the eye.

They stood the open bean can in the sink and, by its side, the shortbread cap and the eyelids. Luna poured in the teardrops from the Pepsi can then they crouched down together in front of the under-sink cupboard and drew out the bucket between them.

"We won't be able to tie the knot once our hands are all slimy," said Luna, groping in her bag.

"Oh, right."

He watched her fasten her Ravenclaw scarf round her eyes then did the same with his own house scarf. Blind, he reached out slowly to avoid knocking over the bucket. Their fingers met and guided each other down into the warm water, where Luna took charge without asking. He let her mould his hands into cups like her own, before lowering them carefully around the eyeball. It was definitely more secure with their four hands tightly bowled together but Harry became distracted when they both had to bend forward and his face touched Luna's.

They rose slowly together, off-balance but leaning into each other while letting the surplus water drain away. They stood holding the eye over the bucket like that for half a minute or so – longer than needed really – then gently moved it over and down to the bean can in the sink. The eye did not slide in easily but came to rest sideways on the opening – as sightless as themselves. Harry and Luna held the beastly thing there, wondering what to do.

"It's swollen up quite a bit," he explained, then cringed with embarrassment when Luna giggled softly. The scent of the clematis through the open window was intoxicating his thinking so badly that he could not keep his mind on the problem literally in hand.

Luna squeezed thoughtfully a few times. "A bit longer than it's fat, that's why. Go by feel," she said, turning her face away from the eye and up to his. "It's easier if we don't imagine we're looking at it, but just feel our way, don't you think? Pretend you're looking at me instead."

Harry tried not to. He sensed her fingers sensitively teasing the cornea around to face upward and he copied her movements to help. Despite its repulsive nature, the object was soft, slightly warm, and extremely slippery between their fingers, so they had to be very careful.

"Now push it in very, very gently," she breathed in his ear. Luna's apparent innocence made every word doubly suggestive, and Harry's face was burning with nowhere to hide. Deep within his loins was another fire causing him to bite his lip hard.

The mood was intensified by a sudden slurping sound, and the eyeball was sucked down into the canister. The couple continued holding each other's sloppy, slimy hands for a few moments then Luna said softly. "I'll hold it upright while you cover the end."

Harry's eyes winced tight at the absurdity of what she was saying. He groped for the eyelids, choosing his own words more carefully. "The clear one is on my left, right?"

"On _your_ left, yes."

After many long, intense moments of delicate fondling between their fingers, the first film slipped into place. The second one – the one that had been darkened – took much longer. Harry could not dispel the notion that Luna was deliberately stroking his fingers in the wrong direction to delay the completion.

Eventually it was over and Luna clamped the cap on tightly. A final rinse under the tap and they shared a towel to dry off.

Pulling off his blindfold, Harry blinked as sunlight hit his eyes once more. He wiped the sweat from his brow.

Luna was smiling at him. "We did it!"

What she meant by that, Harry was unsure. He was striding, somewhat stiffly, to shout upstairs. "Ready!" he called.

With his back to Luna, he waited, listening, glowering with impatience. What was keeping them? A vision of long legs entwined round Ringo Friggin' Starr's butt swamped his mind. "READY!" he bellowed. He couldn't wait to thwack Neville again with a concealment spell. That fat ugly strumpet too. How dare she! _She's as good as engaged to ME, Harry Potter!_ A sickening sensation of the certainty of that fact hit him. There was no way to cheat Time – no way that didn't risk a deadly paradox. Even Hermione had warned him about risking that in second year. But blissfully happy in 2004? He and Ginny? How could they be while she was already being unfaithful?

Luna's touch on his arm made him jump – almost into the air.

"They only snatched their robes from upstairs then went straight out the front door."

She pointed through the window, and Harry could see Neville and Ginny warming up their stunning charms on the scarecrow. He felt himself deflate, and turned away to get his checklist from the backpack. It was almost time to go. Time to die.

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

 _This was the shortest chapter but the next one, 'Showtime!', is the final and longest of them all!_ :)

 _I never planned that kitchen sink drama – it just came out that way! Blame my muse. These characters have a life of their own._ :)

 _Thanks to everyone for comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful._ :)

 **\- Hippothestrowl**

.


	6. Showtime!

.

 _So far... It's the hot summer of 1995. Harry, Ginny, Luna, and Neville have been training at the Lovegood home to trap Voldemort when he tries to take the Prophecy. The day has finally arrived. Read on..._

.

 **Chapter 6**

 **Showtime!**

* * *

.

Spearhead

The Knight Bus hurtled the four friends directly to Diagon Alley where they bought Floo tickets and fidgeted about in the communal agency.

"How long do we wait here, Harry?" said Neville, who was beginning to feel stressed already.

Harry consulted his watch for the umpteenth time. "Eight more minutes. How's your nerve holding, Neville? You're up first, remember, because of your height."

Neville palmed his robes then his badge to make sure he was all there. "I'm good."

He didn't sound it. Neville was stamping his feet and rubbing his hands together as if it were February. Ginny took his arm and he relaxed a little.

The minutes ticked by.

"Once inside, walk through the gate with the middle-aged couple in grey robes, remember?"

"I know."

"Sixty seconds. Get ready, Nev."

Neville moved up to the nearest Floo, silently mouthing his destination over and over.

"Got your wand at hand? 'Lumos' remember? And hold it high."

Neville nodded.

"Three ... two ... one ... go, Nev!"

Like a condemned man, Neville stumbled into the green flames. "Ministry Eighteen," he said, then he was gone.

Ginny looked white-faced suddenly, and was screwing up her eyes. Harry wondered if she was going to cry.

.

Sweating

Neville Longbottom was shaking when he emerged from Ministry Floo eighteen but he strode resolutely forward as he'd rehearsed so often with Luna and Harry clad in ash-daubed tablecloths round their shoulders. This time, however, was different. Instead of his friends, a couple of grey-robed figures were walking ahead of him. He stared almost in disbelief and kept walking. Harry had told him there was a security desk behind to his right but he didn't look back.

Through the golden gates, he veered left and buttoned the first lift in the corner. The door opened instantly as expected, he stepped in, and his thumb almost pulled itself onto Button 9. He didn't look round when the golden grid clanged shut behind him, and the lift began to descend.

"One Manticore, Two Manticore, Three Manticore. Lumos. Wand up high in right hand. Turn to door." He said it all aloud – as planned – to help him focus. Inside he was muttering, _Straight across. Straight across. Straight across._

The lift juddered to a halt. There was a second of agonising nothing-happening, then the door opened once more onto a gloomy stone corridor. _Wand up. Straight across._

Far to his right he knew there'd be a plain black door at the end of a long corridor. Standing invisible before it would be Sturgis Podmore on guard. But Neville was not concealed. They couldn't chance Podmore coming to investigate a lift opening but apparently nobody getting out. Neville was praying his own height, his arm and blazing wand covering his face on that side, and distance, would make Podmore's brief glimpse of an openly-self-assured, non-furtive, short adult cause no concern.

Only two seconds had elapsed from lift to the open doorway opposite but once he'd made it – once he was out of sight again – Neville wanted only to lean against the wall and pant. He couldn't. He mustn't. _Keep going. Keep going. Keep going._ Down the stairs he went without breaking his stride at all. Not running. Not creeping. He'd practised his medium pace on the spiral stair back at the Lovegoods. But his heart hadn't been thumping so hard then.

"Nox." His wandlight went out. The corridor was even more gloomy than the one above, having ominous, thick, dark-wood doors with heavy bolts lining both walls.

Package. Place on floor at foot of stairs against wooden door. Untie bow. Open wrapping. Carefully slide out shards of broken mirror onto the floor. Put string in paper. Close up wrapping. Put in pocket. Turn.

 _Nothing wrong with my memory,_ He almost grinned. _Gran would be proud! She'd – FOCUS, Neville!_

He thwacked himself hard on the head with the best concealment spell he could muster, then examined his arms. Only the faintest glimmer revealed his presence in the torchlight, and then only when he moved. He really did grin this time. It hurt.

Back up the stair he went to a few steps below the top one. He could barely see even the uppermost grid strut of the open lift – but he could listen. Wristwatch up. Merlin! He'd done his best-ever concealment charm so now couldn't see the time! He'd always been able to see it in practice. Wait. Wait. Wait. Was that fifty Manticores or sixty? Wait. Wait. Wait.

This was torture for Neville. _Knowing_ the time wasn't critical – but it had been expected to reassure him.

Wait. Wait. Wait. Manticores long forgotten. Wait. Wait. Wait.

CLANG!

In the silence, the closing of the lift door had sounded like the knell of doom. He was cut off! Knowing that's how it was supposed to happen did not reassure him in the slightest. He was trapped and only Harry's word that everything would work out stopped him from panicking.

Heart pounding, he listened to the lift ascend away from him. He knew what came next and a wave of nausea swept through his stomach as he continued to mark time. It seemed an age until he faintly heard the lift descending once more. He closed his eyes tight. He didn't need to see – didn't want to.

CLANG!

The lift opened once more. He knew without opening his eyes who must have come out. Who had the power to take a couple of steps across the corridor and see right through his pathetic spell! Instead, he heard a few footsteps along the corridor then a man's voice:

"Imperio!"

That was Neville's cue. Screwing up every ounce of his Gryffindor courage he tiptoed slowly upwards, but the voice continued:

"Podmore, you will fetch me the Prophecy of Harry Potter."

At the top of the stair, Neville didn't even look at the speaker on his left (hopefully with his back to him,) instead he turned sharp right. He knew it was a dead end, but there were a couple of paces between the edge of the lift door and this end of the corridor. Neville squatted facing the corner opposite the lift and pressed himself hard against the wall as if every inch mattered. The stone was cool against his forehead.

Silence. He could not resist a look. As he pulled his face from the wall he saw a dark patch of damp where his brow had rested. Was the man looking this way right now?

A lock clicked way down the corridor. That would be Podmore unlocking the black door. Neville twisted his head round even more. He could almost... see... now...

"DON'T COME!"

Startled, and overbalanced in his crouch, Neville's head collided with the wall. It was Harry's voice from the broken mirror downstairs:

"I CAN DO THIS ON MY OWN NOW. I'VE FOUND ANOTHER WAY IN!"

"Wait!" That was the Death Eater's voice controlling Podmore with the curse. Neville could see his back finally. Tall. Dark, expensive robes and leather gloves. Long blond hair. It was Lucius Malfoy.

"I CAN GET IN THE ROOM BY EIGHT TEN. I'll GET THE PROPHECY AND BE GONE IN FIFTEEN MINUTES!"

That had been Harry's voice again, then...

CRASH!

That would be the sound of Harry's own mirror being smashed back at Diagon Alley – the sound coming through the broken mirror downstairs.

"DAMN!" – Harry's voice. "I'M GOING NOW!"

Malfoy hurled himself down the stairs in a fury, leather boots pounding on the steps. "POTTERRRR!"

Neville could hear him cursing down there. The sound of a heavy metal bolt being pulled back came up next. More cursing and the noise of a boot kicking out at the shards of glass. Other bolts sounded and doors crashed open. All the beautiful noises of disappointment.

Finally, footsteps came thundering up again. Neville pressed himself into his wall and prayed.

"You will leave this place and return to your normal duties!" Malfoy snarled.

For a moment, Neville thought Malfoy was addressing Neville himself, but the gate crashed shut, the lift ascended, and Neville took a deep breath. Yet it wasn't over by any means...

Sturgis Podmore was walking towards him. He was a tough-looking, square-jawed wizard with straw-coloured hair. As he drew closer, Neville could see he was staring as one in a daze. After he had pressed the lift button, the man waited motionless with no indication of impatience. And when the lift arrived he gave no impression of relief or even interest, but simply stepped inside.

After he had gone, Neville began to quiver again. He was soaked in sweat and he couldn't remember the anti-odour spell that Harry had made everyone learn in order to remain stealthy.

 _Dumbledore could sense Ron, myself, and Hermione underneath a perfect invisibility cloak,_ Harry had told them all. _He couldn't possibly see us so, unless he cast a spell, it must have been slight sounds, or scent, or body heat that gave us away._

Neville knew that right now he was supposed to go through the black door at the far end of the corridor, but though his teeth were rapidly chattering and clacking with fear, his limbs wouldn't move at all. When he heard the lift descending once more he had utterly forgotten who would be coming down. He only knew he was hot and sweaty yet frozen with terror and gasping so noisily for air that the mighty Dark Lord Voldemort could not possibly fail to detect him.

As the door clanged open, he held his breath finally.

Harry Potter stepped out. He wasted no time but strode away down the corridor followed by Luna. But Ginny had stopped on the threshold looking puzzled.

"Harry! Wait!"

Harry was looking back worriedly before he'd even skidded to a halt.

"Neville?" said Ginny.

A deep, deep shame came over Neville. He wiped tears from his eyes, taking care not to wipe them where they'd become visible. "Ah..." he managed to croak in a quavering voice. "Forgot... uuh." His throat was so dry he could hardly speak. "Wasn't I supposed to wait for you here?"

"That's right," said Ginny. "Uuh... yes, if you'd done a really good concealment and erm... if you didn't have time before the lift started down again, it was best to wait. Yeah. Good thinking. Bloody good concealment charm isn't it, Harry?"

"Sure. You did good, Nev," Harry said quietly, and turned to go.

Neville knew that everyone was aware that Ginny had been lying, but the diversion strengthened him enough to stand up and, Ginny taking his arm as if to lean on him, he proceeded with them all towards the door. He barely heard her whisper the no-smell charm.

.

Revelation in a Circular Room

They were standing in a large, round room. Everything in here was black including the floor and ceiling; identical, unmarked, handleless black doors were set at intervals all around the black walls, interspersed with branches of candles whose flames burned blue; their cool, shimmering light reflected in the shining marble floor made it look as though there was dark water underfoot.

"Ginny, shut the door and mark it quickly," Harry muttered. He'd closed his eyes tight and, keeping motionless, had his arm and wand pointing fixedly at the place where he knew the way forward would be on the opposite side and slightly left.

Ginny scowled at his coldness but did as she was told and, in fact, cast her flaming red X so angrily it flared over most of the door. "No mistaking the exit then," she said firmly, and crossed her arms.

But Harry was still not looking anywhere but inwardly at the memory of his dream. Anyway, now the entrance was closed, the chamber had become so dark that for a while the only things anyone could see were the bunches of shivering blue flames on the walls and their ghostly reflections in the floor.

"Everyone close your eyes!" commanded Harry. "Or you'll have trouble seeing after."

Abruptly there was a great rumbling noise and the candles began to move sideways. The circular wall was rotating. The blue flames began to blur around them into an intense streak of neon.

As suddenly as it had started, the rumbling stopped and everything became stationary once again.

"That one!" cried Harry. "That door there. That's the way!"

As they opened their eyes, Harry was in the same pose as before, but a different door was now in front of his pointing wand.

Seeing that Harry was reluctant to lose track of the correct door even for one instant, Neville stepped forward, pushed it open, and with one hand still on the door in case it swung back, turned to Ginny to stretch out his other arm in a showy gesture of great accomplishment. It had been an innocent over-reaction to hide his nerves but Harry scowled. Vivid brightness spilled over Neville from the open doorway but it scarcely lit the dark surfaces of the chamber they were in. Ginny ran forward to stand beside her man and Neville's arm slid down around her waist.

 _Neville!_ thought Harry contemptuously. _The stumbling, forgetful baby who'd obviously cowered outside in the corner of the corridor, paralysed with fear, yet now stole MY future bride as well as MY limelight!_

Harry pushed on to stand in _his_ opened doorway first and glared over his shoulder. He almost wished he could leave them all here: Luna was alright but Ginny was no more than a repulsive outgrowth from a–

His jealous thoughts came to a halt. Blindly looking back into the dark as he was, Luna had also come tentatively forward, but remained unlit by the next room. And yet, though still in complete shadow, she was clearly silhouetted by Ginny's pompously over-sized Flagrate spell blazing behind her. Luna's fair hair was now a brilliant red eruption of glory against the black backdrop of the round room; a fiery halo that Harry knew he'd seen before. Where? There could be no mistake: in the alley at the side of the garage back in Little Whinging.

"Harry, we've got to go," said Neville. "Malfoy's had time to get outside and summon You-know-who with his dark mark. Bellatrix and him – they'll come back invisibly into the Ministry with Malfoy as cover!"

All doubts fled Harry Potter's heart. Ginny, with her red hair, was lovely – he could not deny her that fact – but he now perceived Luna as very special to him in comparison. With this release, an immense truth dawned in Harry's mind. Ginny wasn't evil. It had been Ginny that had brought him to Luna. Ginny who had answered his call for help. Ginny who now was prepared to die fighting beside him. Neville too – a shaky grin on his face – had excelled himself this day, and was a true hero. He had answered the call without hesitation. As for Luna, she had not even known Harry before he arrived at her home, yet here she was...

"Harry?" said Ginny. "What's wrong? We've not much time! Are you alright? How can we help?"

In a moment he was embracing Ginny with his shame and gratitude. Perhaps his thanks were blubbered – to her and then all of them. And perhaps there were tears shining. "Luna, g-give me the b-bean can. I can do b-both on my own. You've come this far but there's no–"

"Harry, no! I've practised for this!" protested Luna. "I'm the best pointer you said!"

"We need her!" cried Neville. "Harry we've trained with Luna. She's our backup – for Ginny and me!"

"Harry, we'll fall apart without Luna," said Ginny, quietly.

A distant clang! from behind the black door through which they had arrived – the door which was now ablaze with harmless but fiery red flames – made Harry's decision for him.

"That was the lift! He's coming!" cried Ginny, suppressing her shriek with one hand. "Harry, You-know-who's coming right now! Luna can't go back! She can't!"

Swiftly they sped onward through the open door and quietly closed it behind them.

.

Deductions

Level 9's corridor, never a warm, friendly entryway, seemed to visibly chill when Lord Voldemort and two other figures stepped into it. "Did you say, Lucius, that it was here you saw Potter?"

"Down those stairs, my Lord. That is, I did not actually uuh... _see_ him – but his voice is well known to us and it was extremely loud and clear. I have not a single doubt that it was him."

"Indeed. Loud and clear, you say? He made no attempt to avoid being overheard?"

Lucius opened his mouth but had no answer.

Voldemort pressed on. "And where were you?"

"Master, but a few steps further along here. I was casting the Imperious upon Podmore as ordered when–"

"Yes, yes. Then show me Potter's 'secret way'. Wait. What have you found, Bellatrix?"

The fingers of the dark witch who had accompanied the other two, were pointing at a dark patch on a corner stone. "Fear," was all she said.

"Interesting..." said the high, cold voice, "most interesting. Lead on, Lucius." The Dark Lord's pale white hand pointed down the steps.

"My Lord, time is most pressing, would it not be prudent to–"

"I wish to see how Potter might manage his miraculous escape, that we might cut off his... retreat, as they say. Surely you must have considered such an obvious course of action?"

"Of course, my Lord. I merely wished to–" He was stopped abruptly by a single glare from the Dark Lord and hurried down the steps with the others following.

"Here, my Lord. Potter dropped this spying glass device here. I have no doubt he communicated with others outside."

"I see..." Voldemort did not trouble himself with more than a cursory glance at the broken mirror. "And the 'secret way' you found."

"Ah... not yet found, Master. I consider that informing you is my first duty always."

"And your opinion then?" Voldemort was glancing around the walls and ceiling with deeply set red eyes. "Were these doors all bolted from the outside when you made your... search?"

"They were, my Lord. In any event they all lead only into temporary holding cells – apart from Court 10 at the end of course. There is no way out."

"And yet you suppose Harry Potter slipped through your fingers here. How might that be? Can the boy Disapparate from the Ministry when the Dark Lord himself cannot?"

"My Lord, there is no Apparition in or out of the Ministry nor can any Portkey aid entry or escape."

Voldemort turned his back on Malfoy and began ascending the steps once more. "Am I to understand that Potter is now able to pass directly through stone? Is that your explanation, Lucius?"

"Master, if we..."

The white, almost skeletal hand was raised, and Malfoy stopped his utterance immediately.

"What do you make of this, Bellatrix?" The Dark Lord was indicating another damp spot a short way before the top of the stair.

The witch had already examined the dust churned around on one particular step below the dark patch on the wall. She placed herself upon it. "The boy is my height?" she asked.

Lucius answered as soon as his master gestured to him. "Yes, that would be about right."

"Then here stood Harry Potter, keeping watch and listening for the lift gate." She hurried on ahead, anticipating her master's wish to return to the upper corridor.

"The evidence is clear," said Voldemort rather coolly. "Potter deliberately broke the glass earlier then kept watch for you here, Lucius. While you attempted to control Podmore without due care as to what is going on behind you, the boy – under the simplest of concealments – sat in the corner above, his tears of mirth at your stupidity smearing those walls. Doubly so when he somehow projected his voice to that apparently broken device and watched you trot down to draw the wrong conclusions. Then, with the high security door now unlocked – by your own Imperious curse – you dismissed the only guard and ran away, leaving Potter to freely stroll in and take the Prophecy."

"My Lord!"

"Is my assessment sound or not?"

There was only the briefest hesitation. "Sound as always, Master."

"I will deal with you later, but let us now consider the trap."

"Trap?"

"Of course. We hoped to lay a trap for the boy and retrieve the Prophecy. Because of your incompetence, he has turned that on its head. What do you think awaits us in the Prophecy room?"

"Why, by your own reasoning, he must return this way with the Prophecy. You could pluck it from him easily. We could wait here on these steps to jump out when–"

"Wait? Not knowing his plan?" Voldemort sighed and walked the last few steps up to the lift corridor.

"My Lord?" said Bellatrix. "If I may?"

Voldemort's eyes flickered to her face and the dark witch's eyes shone with adoration.

"Yes, Bellatrix. Perhaps you can dispel Lucius's confusion."

"The boy must have known of this part of your plan from someone in the Order – perhaps ... Snape?"

Voldemort's eyes lifted to show his interest. "Go on."

"Knowing your desire to take the Prophecy, what better than to curse it in some way? There are curses that will not harm their caster."

"You hear that, Lucius? You would have me wait here to take a cursed Prophecy?"

"My Lord, it is most unlikely that Potter would know how to–"

"SILENCE!"

The flame of the nearest torch guttered and struggled to recover.

"Unlikely, you say? Then perhaps you could test your opinion for me? How would that be?"

"My Lord..." mumbled Lucius, bowing his head in fear and horror at the pit he had dug for himself.

"Lead on then, Lucius, since you appear to know more than the Dark Lord himself. I shall feel most safe in your hands – come whatever dangers lie in wait for us."

.

Row Ninety-Seven

The bright room the four youngsters had entered boasted a great many timepieces of different sorts, as well as other fascinating objects.

"Oh, look!" said Luna, as they hurried along. "How sweet!". She was pointing at the very heart of a bell jar inside which floated a tiny, jewel-bright egg. As it rose in the jar, it cracked open and a hummingbird emerged, which was carried to the very top of the jar. But its feathers quickly became bedraggled causing it to descend and by the time it had reached the bottom of the jar it had become enclosed once more in its egg.

"Touch nothing! Keep going!" said Harry. "It's this last door here."

He swung it open to reveal a vast, shadowy chamber, high as a church and full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, grimy, glass orbs. They glimmered dully in the faint light issuing from candle-brackets set at intervals along the shelves. Like those in the circular room behind them, their flames were burning blue. The room was very cold.

"You said it was row ninety-seven?" whispered Neville.

"Yeah," breathed Harry, looking at his checklist.

They crept onward in near-total darkness down the long alleys of shelves

They passed row ninety-four ... ninety-five ...

"Ninety-seven!" whispered Ginny.

For a few moments they stood grouped around the end of the row, gazing upon the numerous spheres that filled it, then gradually moved down the aisle.

"Harry... Potter..." breathed Luna in a dreamy voice. "That one has your name on it, Harry," said Luna.

Harry moved a little closer. Luna was pointing at one of the small glass spheres that glowed with a dull inner light, though it was very dusty and appeared not to have been touched for many years. "This is it!"

He looked around excitedly at the arrangement of the other shelves and boxes. "Everything is how he – I – described it! There look, Luna, between those huge crates there's a narrow space giving you good cover and it's really dark! Neville! Ginny! Look – behind that heavy shelving. It's perfect."

"Yes, look!" cried Ginny, as they squeezed through into the narrow passage behind the shelves. "There are the exit doors at either end. Where'd they lead to Harry?"

"No idea, but trust me, they'll get you out the safest way if you have to run for it."

"What about you, Harry?" said Luna, mournfully. You've got no cover at all."

For a moment, Harry was lost. Within the intensity of the moment, he'd not had time to consider the future with this girl. There was no doubt in his mind now that he'd met her – married to his future self – in the Magnolia Crescent passage. His mind wished to dwell on that for much longer. His soul was drawn to her presence. His protective instincts stirred–

"Harry?"

He shook his head to clear it. "The Prophecy itself is my cover. So long as I have it then they daren't risk breaking it."

"And after?"

"That's when the screaming starts."

A distant rumbling alerted them to their stations.

"The circular room! The walls are spinning again!" cried Ginny.

"Right," said Harry, hurling decoys way over the shelving in all directions to surround them with a dull background hum, rush, and hubbub, as if all around them many unseen speakers were running machinery beside a busy road and several waterfalls. Fog soon enveloped them, limiting good vision to their needs. Harry could see no further than necessary but had to raise his voice to be heard. "Positions. Concealments. Scarves. Wands. Luna – put on my invis–" He paused just for a moment, knowing that once she put on his cloak he might never see her again. They did look into each other's eyes, then there was a crash in the next room and Harry turned to seize the Prophecy.

.

The Dozen Doors

"Well, Lucius. A dozen doors and a dozen possibly fatal traps. Which shall you choose?"

He looked back the way they had entered. "Close the door, Bellatrix, and remove Potter's marker. He shall not find it so easy to run out on us if that is his plan."

She ran eagerly to do his bidding.

"Well, Lucius?"

"We cannot... that is...

The walls spun and their eyes were left dazzled.

"Ingenious. Now your task is made more difficult, Lucius. Choose!"

While Malfoy hesitated, Voldemort looked back to where Bellatrix was attempting to remove the marker. "Master, I have countered the magic but his spell was so clumsy, it deeply scarred the door itself."

"No matter. It will serve _us_ just as well – and Potter will not be returning."

Malfoy was taking a bearing from the damaged door, then ran to the door directly opposite it. It was locked and no spell would open it. "Master, I am sorry but perhaps you might..."

"Fool, the boy could not have gone that way, could he! Pick another or you will try my patience for the last time!"

Frantic now, Lucius ran from door to door. He looked briefly inside for any sign of Harry but slammed the doors rapidly for fear of what might harm him.

Voldemort snarled, "Desist. I thought this might amuse me longer. The correct door is obvious. Show him Bellatrix."

"Of course, Master."

She ran to a door on the left. "Here he stood holding his sweaty hand on this door before going through. I can smell his panic."

"Lead on then, Lucius."

Trembling with dread, Malfoy cautiously opened the door a crack and peered through while Voldemort raised his eyes to the heavens.

"He is not here my Lord." There was some relief in Malfoy's tone.

"Then go through and find him. There you will find the Prophecy. We shall be right behind you, under your protection."

Bellatrix uttered a laugh that at best was tentative; even the Dark Lord's most favoured deputy remained forever cautious in his presence.

.

Best Laid Plans

Amongst the feeble candles a cloud of low fog had gathered within which a single bright light glowed briefly, then was gone. _Attract the moth, then blind it. Deafen and confuse it too,_ the Dark Lord mused as he approached the perplexing commotion. His eyes followed the uneasy progress of Lucius Malfoy towards the self-evident trap, relishing the thought of his humiliation as well as the attainment of the knowledge within the Prophecy – and the utter destruction of that irritating Potter once and for all. "Come Bellatrix. Circle behind Potter, then tell me what is there."

"An honour, my Lord." The dark witch disappeared silently into the shadows.

Malfoy was almost upon the row where Potter must be, yet he hesitated. Whatever doubts and fears he held concerning his master, he'd always respected the Dark Lord's perceptiveness. If Lord Voldemort suspected a trap then Malfoy expected it too. He knew he was being watched from behind by those piercing red eyes, and that he was expected to perform well. Yet ahead was an unknown, probably deadly fate. If only he could see and hear properly; he might as well be wandering an unlit, noisy, smoky Muggle factory.

A dark figure, little more than a broken shadow, stood along the row. Its height was that of a youth. Malfoy observed for a while, aware that he in turn was being scrutinised by his Master. The boy was staring up at a shelf slightly above him, as if searching. Had he not yet found the Prophecy? His left arm was reaching up, but he did not take. A glint of light near the end of that limb indicated Potter was checking his wristwatch – and checking it once too often. What was he waiting for?

A thin voice immediately behind him hissed. "He's waiting for you of course, Lucius."

Malfoy shuddered and instantly froze, terrified that his master had seen his revulsion at the invasion of his thoughts. Uncertain death lay ahead – certain death behind.

"Yes, closer, Lucius. Let us draw Potter out."

As if on that cue, the boy's wand in his right hand cast a tiny light, his left seized one of the dusty spheres, and he began examining one side of it.

"Bravo," said the cold voice.

Harry whirled around, his short wand swerving left and right defensively, the Prophecy clutched awkwardly with his left hand.

"Oh, Harry, surprised to see us? ... I think not," called the Dark Lord.

"Keep your distance, Riddle, or I'll break it!" cried Harry from further down the row on the opposite the aisle.

Another figure rejoined her master.

"What news of his backup and retreat, Bellatrix?" murmured the Dark Lord.

"Master, there is nothing behind him. The rows beyond are empty and nowhere to go. There are scattered decoys – too many to clear away quickly."

"I see... very well, a little more light is needed right here then. Tell me what you find." One hand moved slightly and a ribbon of radiant energy snaked upward to hover over the proceedings, but the fog, and the countless confusing reflections of the spheres – a starry sky surrounding them – limited the light's effectiveness to this one row.

"You may continue, Lucius." The voice was kept low.

"My Lord?"

"The Prophecy. Go forth and summon the prophecy."

"Master, I have reason to believe he had ample time to curse the Prophecy and place it back on its shelf before retrieving it once more. He hesitated to take it again, And see how delicately he holds it between his fingertips."

"An interesting theory, Lucius, but do you suppose this simpleton boy has discovered a means of cursing only half an object?"

Bellatrix's laughter was like broken glass.

"I do not know how to be certain, my Lord," sobbed Lucius, his head bowed.

"I do, Lucius."

"Master?"

"Take the Prophecy yourself. If you survive then I shall know it is safe for me to take from you, won't I? Step away from me and summon the Prophecy, Lucius. I insist."

Lucius knew he must obey, though his wand arm shook alarmingly. "Accio Prophecy!"

"NNNOOOOOOO!" roared Harry as he struggled to hang on to the sphere with only half a grip – but to no avail. The Prophecy leapt from him and sailed through the air towards Lucius's outstretched hand.

And then a great many things occurred in the same brief moments.

Well concealed beyond the crates and beneath Harry's invisibility cloak, Luna, nerves tensed for her strike, instinctively responded to the scream she'd trained so hard for. To Luna's credit, her body lurched out only inches before she curbed the reflex, yet the cap was off the bean can; the basilisk eye, oiled by the snake tears, skidded onto the floor beyond the hem of the invisibility cloak; and the dark eyelid flopped wetly down beside it.

Harry heard the calamity more than saw it – perhaps his ears had filtered out the smooth rhythms of the decoys, and with senses sky-high, he'd heard the disgusting slop as eyeball met stone. But Bellatrix and Voldemort knew it too from Harry's expression of despair. With Lucius triumphantly lofting the Prophecy in his gloved hand, and Bellatrix drawing back a vicious razor-lash curse, Voldemort's wand flicked towards Luna's location where a hand groped blindly for the naked eyeball slowly spinning to a stop in the shiny wet.

Yet even as the first killing syllable was uttered, another green flash changed the scene, and the astonished Lucius died and fell. Voldemort's incantation tailed off with this new, unexpected crisis. A moment before the Prophecy impacted the floor, Voldemort summoned it, grasped it oh-so-briefly in his spidery hand, exulted, then screeched his ultimate terror as toxic death raced through his veins.

Harry groaned his dismay even as he spun around to see Luna's crates exploding under Bella's lash. But reacting to Voldemort's scream of pain, Neville and Ginny's spells hit the dark witch with such ferocity that one side of her face baked and she was flung through Harry's shelves within a maelstrom of glass shards. Neville was still pumping stunners in her direction when Ginny seized and kissed him for being alive.

"Luna! Luna!" Harry picked away huge splinters that lay across the invisible cloak.

A movement signified life, and the girl's smile emerged alongside her wand. "Green sparks!" she cried excitedly. "I saw the eye looking at Mr Malfoy so I painted the sky again, Harry! I painted the sky!"

Harry's blank face drew her explanation:

"I disguised how Mr Malfoy died with green light, of course. That distracted You-know-who for the extra moment I needed to petrify him."

"You got the eye back in the can?"

"No, I just held the dark eyelid over the cornea and pointed; I'm good at pointing. It was still wet with teardrops under its eye scale, you see. I'm so happy we practised feeling the eye's shape. It helped me point it nicely."

Harry suddenly became aware of the fading decoys and that Voldemort's cry of despair had long since stopped short. "You actually...?" He whirled around. "His spirit didn't escape?"

Like a tilted statue, Voldemort lay at a curiously-rigid angle against the shelving. His arms were drawn tight to his chest, and the agony of defeat contorted his face. One tortured hand had snapped his own wand, the other had crushed the Prophecy – still gooey with chocolate on one side – in a death grip. Yet he remained moments from that death – frozen by the basilisk's stare.

"Harry, we've got to move!" Ginny's voice as if far away.

"Yeah... right." Harry stared into Voldemort's eyes for a few more moments then turned.

Neville was examining Bellatrix's heavily-lacerated body which was still steaming from his onslaught. "She's alive, I think, but look at her face! She'll never smirk out that side again – nor even speak; her jaws half-cooked."

"Good – leave her for the Dementors!" said Ginny. "Fudge won't hang about making sure she gets the Kiss."

"Mr Malfoy is dead," Luna said sadly. "We should not have wedged the practice melon so tight in the bean can while we were training – I wasn't prepared for the eye slipping out."

"Wasn't your fault, Luna," said Harry. "It was blind chance, like a deadly version of spin the bottle – except _we_ knew not to look at it. Where's the eye now?"

"Destroyed. I threw it at a crate as it got smashed to bits, and the recoil rolled me over backwards on my bum away from the worst of the blast. The sole of one of my shoes was lost – though your cloak seems indestructible."

"But your _soul_ is safe, Luna – that's what matters." They smiled at each other for long moments with a new understanding.

"Ahem!" smirked Ginny and Neville together.

Harry carefully Scourgified Malfoy's dragon-hide gloves still tacky with lethal chocolate, took the man's wand, cast several stunning spells into the air, then pushed it back into Malfoy's fist. "With luck, they'll think _Malfoy_ killed Bellatrix, not anyone else."

They wrapped Voldemort in Harry's cloak and carried him between them as they headed for the exit. None of them could remember exactly how they walked out, but the timing was perfect.

.

Heroes

MR LUCIUS MALFOY TO POSTHUMOUSLY  
RECEIVE ORDER OF MERLIN 1ST CLASS!

Harry stared in disbelief at next morning's headline in the Daily Prophet. He looked up. Luna was smiling at him as she adjusted the burner under one saucepan while another stirred its porridge and slices of toast spread themselves with marmalade.

"It's good isn't it?" she said. "They think Mr Malfoy stopped Bellatrix stealing the Prophecy so she used the killing curse on him then collapsed from her wounds. The basilisk eye leaves no mark on its victims, you see."

"Well, I guess it covers our ar–arms and legs," said Harry.

"And so will Gran," said Neville as he entered the kitchen whistling and still in his pyjamas.

"It's all set then?" said Harry.

"Yep, you come back home with me later today, Harry, and Gran will swear you were with us all the time. Meanwhile–"

"–meanwhile," cried Ginny from the doorway, "I've been here all along with Luna having a quiet holiday playing games in the garden – just as I told Mum." Ginny floated in as if on a cloud and kissed Neville on the cheek in passing.

"What I don't understand," said Neville, "is why you, Harry – I mean you in the future – why didn't you say in your message what was going to happen? I nearly had Kneazles when _you_ screamed and Malfoy got the Prophecy instead of You-know-who."

"I suppose," said Harry, "It had to happen as it had before or else risk a time paradox. I mean, if the eyeball _hadn't_ slipped out then maybe our plan wouldn't have worked – who knows? It's just magic – which reminds me, Nev, how are you this morning? You practically drained all your power into Bella. It says here that she didn't regain consciousness for eighteen hours! Did your magic recover okay last night?"

"Oh yes," smirked Ginny.

Harry rolled his eyes but somehow the image of Ginny's legs round Ringo's butt didn't trouble him anymore. He reached out to pat Luna's hand as she counted out boiled eggs with a slotted spoon. "One eyeball, two eyeballs, three–"

"LUNA!"

They sat down happily together and began their meal.

"So... what did you do with him in the end?" said Neville. "After me and Gin..." He had the grace to reach for the salt to hide his blushes.

"Who?" said Harry, winking sideways at Luna.

"You-know-who!"

"Oh, _him_. We threw him down the old well and filled it in with elequant dung."

"You did not!" cried Neville.

Harry nodded. "It was the easiest way. It will become rock hard in time and encourage even more vegetation to cover the area."

Luna explained. "There was a small hillock of poo nearby that Mrs Wiggley has deliberately charmed her herd to favour just to spite Daddy."

"But is... is You-know-who conscious down there?" said Neville.

Harry snorted porridge out his nose. "I wish!" He wiped his face and continued. "No, when Hermione was petrified in our second year, she said she remembered nothing until she woke up in the hospital wing with the taste of Mandrake in her mouth!"

"But sooner or later someone might accidentally dig him up," said Neville.

"It'll hardly be soon. It's a zillion to one. This land belongs to the Lovegoods and so eventually to Luna. Nobody's going to dig up a contaminated well when there's already a perfectly good source of water to hand."

"But in a thousand years from now, someone might!"

"Once I'm dead," Harry said, serious all of a sudden, "then if anyone digs him up – and they still have to give him Mandrake Restorative Draught – he'll die instantly from the toxins petrified within him. That is, once Dumbledore has dealt with the other dark magic that would have kept him immortal." He looked meaningfully at Ginny.

"I'll get started on that anonymous letter you asked me to write for the headmaster, today or tomorrow, Harry. I mean, you did say you don't want him to get it for a few months so he won't connect it with your absence."

"That's right. No rush. We'll let him have it next year together with Riddle's broken wand. By then, word should have gotten around that he's vanished again. Once we've convinced Dumbledore that Voldemort is petrified and poisoned then he'll be free to deal with all the dark magic whenever he likes.

"What dark magic?" said Neville.

"Dunno. I think it's like when Voldemort disappeared before when he killed my parents. He was supposed to be dead but he came back last June, didn't he?"

Neville nodded. "So he could have kept doing that?"

"I suppose so."

"But not anymore, Harry," smiled Luna, clasping her hand over his. "It's over."

"That's right, Luna, it's all over."

.

Nine Years Later

"Harry, it's nearly time." Luna pulled her head out of the fireplace and dusted ash off her pinafore as she stood up.

"The umbra's starting to grow?"

Luna nodded.

Harry knelt down and took a look inside the green flames for himself. Low down on his left was a tiny dark bubble in the Floo wall – much bigger than last week. He pulled himself back out of the fireplace and stood up. "And we'll be able to push through today?"

"We need to perform the ritual or we'll miss the opportunity to expand it further. Temporal flaws are so rare there are only two other recorded instances."

"Right, well, I think we're all ready." He glanced at the Aldi carrier bag that stood in the corner of their parlour, then back at his wife. "Oh, Luna, please don't cry."

He took her in his arms and softly stroked her back.

"I can't help it," she sobbed. "He's hurting so much – and he's so alone."

Harry murmured sympathetically.

"And he won't even know me."

"But he will soon after. And he'll be so, so happy..."

"Really?" she said, playing the game. Her eyes still glistened as she composed herself and looked at his expression. "Will I really make Harry Potter happy?"

"I know you will," said Harry, and he kissed her.

After many long moments of tenderness, Harry whispered, "Shall we...?"

She nodded and, casting red Floo powder, they entered the flames.

"Rubrum ignibus," Luna chanted over and over so softly that Harry could only feel the words breathed across his face. Then it was done at last.

"Dad? ... Mum?"

"Harry," said Luna, "we've waited so long for this moment."

.

Eighteen-thousand Years Later

"The chamber is prepared, my Liege. Through here."

"Thank you. Read the scroll if you will, Clarine."

A white-robed woman projected the record centrally above those gathered there, that all might read along with her.

"The invalid was discovered by Brone Cauthe, a Venusian landscaper commissioned to redesign a tiny area of a Yeurothean isle.

"In Yeuroth did you say? On Mother Earth?" enquired the elder. His gown of gold glittered in the suffused glow from a million floating pinpoints.

"Correct, my Liege. Brone has long preserved the terran sectors of Venus."

"Thank you. Continue."

"Two penances enslave the sufferer. One is weak ancient sorcery that binds him so; the other is conflicting material that has destroyed vital organs beyond even our repair."

"How so?"

"A much-reduced soul, my Liege, scarcely human and tenuously misrepresented by grey tissue within the cranium – that is, like all ancients we believe, this person _relies_ on matter to live."

Gasps echoed from the high-domed ceiling.

"And there is nothing to be done for him?"

"Nothing, Sire. To remove the foreign material would be to remove most of which it is bonded – which he requires for survival."

"And so very, very young..."

"Yes, my Liege. We estimate no more than seven _decads_ by Earth reckoning."

A sigh escaped the lips of the revered elder. "Go on."

"The _quantcil's_ proposal is to disperse the witchcraft and gift him a few precious seconds of conscious life. We can do no more."

After a few thoughtful minutes, the elder declared, "Very well, proceed."

There was no particular movement nor incantation. After a moment came an awful cry and the horizontal figure constricted into a foetal scrunch. There was a final babyish whimper, then nothing.

"I detected a weak trace of psi!" said a short, bent figure with silvery hair. "A pathetic attempt to control – anything – where there could be none."

"How sad."

"And another emotion I've never experienced... most curious."

"What was it, Oolin?"

"I believe it was... hatred."

"Then that confirms," began the now-weeping Elder, "the myths and legends concerning the ancients."

"I much prefer to believe," Clarine whispered somewhat timidly, "that even they occasionally... loved."

"We hope so, for theirs is a sad story if not," said Oolin.

"Then let this final chapter end," said the Elder.

.

—oOo—

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* * *

 **Author's Notes**

 _So Harry got his wish for world peace, Luna wished for and got Harry, Ginny got Neville, and Neville got his own wishing well probably. So there you have it and I hope you enjoyed reading it half as much as I did writing it. No, wait that can't be right. What I mean is, I hope I enjoyed writing it twice as much as you enjoyed reading it._ :)

 _I feel the need to defend Harry and Luna coming together almost out of nowhere. This is my take on it: All through the story, Harry was distracted by and extremely anxious about the serious task he had to organise – plus he'd convinced himself that Ginny was his future wife and did not consider anyone else. In the relatively brief time that he knew her, Luna appeared to be a dreamy, quirky kid who seemed to think life was a game in which you could invent your own rules. On the other hand, there were hints that Luna was quite taken with Harry early on. Ginny commented twice that she wasn't like her normal self – unaffected and unhurt normally by other people's views of her. Harry knew nothing of that. A jolt was needed to even get him to see Luna as a physically pretty and attractive girl of almost his own age (seven months younger.) That shock came about with the kitchen sink event in Chapter 5. The fact that he tried to resist proved there was a magnetism between them. Though still preoccupied with the enormous task of defeating the Dark Lord, his growing awareness of Luna prepared his mind to fully accept her in the circular room event when he saw that her hair could appear red if there were red flames behind it. Then, of course, the certainty that she must be (and already was) his future wife could not be denied – nor, he realised, did he wish to._ :)

 _The four-way mirrors didn't really get used for communication. I originally included them for general use. Then I thought Neville needed three: the smashed one, one for him to hide behind an unlit torch bracket for Harry to project his voice to (before I remembered the smashed mirror would still work!) and one for Neville to use to communicate to Harry the all-clear (not needed because everything was timed by watch as Harry's future self listed,) and finally Harry's own mirror. But in the end only two were used. The idea of choreographing movements to a predicted future was, I realised after, partly and unconsciously inspired by the movie Next with Nick Cage._ :)

 _Thanks to everyone for comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful._ :)

 **\- Hippothestrowl**

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